


Devil Agents

by azure_iolite



Series: Crossdressed Lucifer Stories [1]
Category: Archer (Cartoon), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU Archer where timelines lines up with modern day, Action, Alternate Universe, Bad Jokes, Bombs, Bromance, Canon Compliant, Car Chases, Cheryl is Crazy, Crack, Crossover, Cyborgs, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Guns, Humor, Implied Smut, Isis - Freeform, Lucifer doesn't understand, Lucifer is a spy, M/M, Mature rating is for language and innuendos only, Misunderstandings, No Smut, POV Alternating, Prime Minister, Protective Chloe Decker, Protective Lucifer, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Spy - Freeform, Wingfic, Wings, cursing, early season 3 Lucifer(TV), everyone is oblivious, malory is the worst, no f-bombs, puns, secret agents, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_iolite/pseuds/azure_iolite
Summary: The Beau Monde Society is an exclusive club. Only the height of society are invited, and you need connections to get in.  When a threat is made against the prime minister (never mind which one) and ISIS is contracted to intervene, they need someone on the inside to get the job done. Of course, the Devil has connections everywhere.  In an ill advised (and lust driven) maneuver, Mallory Archer recruits one Lucifer Morningstar to the team. Needless to say, throwing our favorite fallen archangel in with this particular mix of people only seems to bring out the worst in everyone. Will they be able to get the job done or will everything fly apart at the seams? Expect action, insults, colorful language, puns, innuendos, misunderstandings, chase scenes and gun fights.  Because what spy caper is complete without these?Early season 3 of Lucifer.  Archer-verse is AU with their time in ISIS being in modern day to line up with the Lucifer-verse timeline. Otherwise canon compliant.





	1. Outsourcing

"Pay attention, you two, this is important!" Mallory Archer snapped at her only two competent - well, somewhat competent - secret - sort of secret – agents: Lana Kane and Sterling Archer. 

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, bad guys are infiltrating high society, and we need to kill them, we get it, Mother." Archer remarked in an annoyed tone as he took a swig from his tumbler, downing the contents in one go. "What is so complicated about any of that?"

Mallory grumbled, took a deep breath, and continued, after taking a sip from her own tumbler, filled with a similar liquid. Her son refilled his glass, without, of course, asking first. "First of all, your assignment isn't so much to kill the bad guys as it is to protect the prime minister. Secondly, it is best not to kill too many of them, because we need information, thirdly, the _Beau Monde Society_ is an exclusive organization. Only the elite get in, and you can only get in if you are already connected."

"Tell me again, why you, Miss High Society, are not already connected?" Lana asked, exasperated by how much more difficult this minor detail made everything. A part of her was, however, tickled to see her boss excluded from something like this. It must burn her up.

"Because the head of the organization is a thoughtless pig, with no regards to a woman's needs!" Mallory steamed, slamming her palm down on the mahogany tabletop for emphasis.

"She tried to put the moves on him, and he didn't respond. Thank God for that!" Archer exclaimed with a smirk.

"There is nothing to be thankful about any of this! Now, because of his pompousness, I have no way of getting you in without bringing a third party into the mix, and we all know how well that tends to go." The Head of ISIS rolled her eyes and took another sip.

“Yeah, with Pirates and dead hookers!” Pam shouted gleefully from the other room.

"Stop eves-dropping, you idiotic interloper and get back to work!” Mallory shouted out the door. Then, as if remembering something, she stood up and adjusted her blue dress suit, before continuing, “And where the Hell is Krieger with that list, anyway?"

"List?" Lana queried.

"Yes, the list. The list of individuals who may be well enough connected to get you two in. We need someone on the inside who also possesses the potential skill set required for an infiltration." She explained as if she were talking to an annoying, unwanted child. She took another sip, eyeing her agents. As her eyes lingered on Lana, an annoyed look crossed her face. "Well, at least we might get Sterling in. The _Beau Monde Society_ is for classy people. Only the height of society. And I doubt they would allow entry for your sort," The expression she gave Lana as she said this was contemptuous. Not surprisingly, Lana had more than a little to say about that, but just as she was about to retort with a full blown speech about racism, Krieger came bursting in with all the glee in the world.

"I've got it!” He proclaimed delightedly, “An extensive list of recommendations!" He declared, holding up a flash drive with exuberance.

"Excellent, let’s see it." Mallory declared, already eager to see what the list would conjure up. She imaged a vast selection of potential new employees. Dashing rogues with charm, skills, and professionalism… maybe even sexy accents, who might be a bit more capable than her current lot of agents. Her current selection of agents were just… insufficient, to put it mildly. As Krieger plugged in the drive and the file popped up on the screen, she tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently, waiting for the magic. Archer took another swig from his tumbler, not at all amused about the idea of working with an outsider. He was more than enough to handle a threat to the prime minister's life, why did he have to bring an amateur along for the ride?

The first image to pop up was of a man in his mid to late thirties, with short brown combed back hair, and friendly soulful blue eyes. He was well dressed and clearly respectable. "This is Thomas Greene. His family have been members of the Society since it was first founded. He served in the black ops in his younger days, lives near the area, and his grandfather was an agent for the secret police. Rather perfect for your request in almost every way, save one short-coming." He began.

"Secret Police for who? What short-coming?" Lana asked, even though she was actually impressed. 

"Yeah, because Black Ops are just so cool." Archer blurted sarcastically, clearly less impressed. "Like being the world’s Greatest Secret Agent isn't cool enough." He added moodily, puffing up his chest with indignation.

"Don’t know, it was a secret.” Krieger replied answering Lana’s first questions. “Down side is he may or may not be a pacifist." Krieger said with distaste, shuddering slightly.

"Okay, we might be able to work around that," Mallory said, thinking carefully. "What else have you got?"

"Only one other." Krieger said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I thought you said it was an extensive list!" Lana accused. 

"It _is _extensive. That is to say, my research on our second subject was extensive” He almost looked like he was about to giggle. Lana had a bad feeling about this. “I saved the best for last." Krieger beamed. Then he pulled up a picture of a striking dapper man with charming brown eyes, artfully fashioned black hair, and a well-groomed five o'clock shadow, perfectly shaped to draw attention to a pair of very enticing lips. Lips which were smiling in the picture like he had a secret that was just too juicy to keep to himself. _Sploosh! _Lana thought. She really liked what she saw, and she could see that Mallory was thinking the same thing, too. Archer took one look at the two women and was immediately disgusted, mostly because the attention wasn't on him. He did not like the idea of having competition in the dashing-rouge, charming-good-looks department. That was his thing, and he wasn’t going to let a newbie steal his thing.

"No, no, no, I don't like him, no way!" His blue eyes glared at the image on the monitor, daring it to try anything.

"Oh, my!” yearning crossed Mrs. Archer’s face. “What a charmer. Tell me everything.” Mallory said dreamily. 

"Yeah, tell us everything! What's wrong with this one?" Archer demanded, immediately ill at ease over his mother's very inappropriate reaction. It made his skin crawl. 

The eccentric mad scientist was thrilled to oblige. "The subject has no record after going back only a few years. All we know of him is that he appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and instantly made a bit of a sensation. I'm thinking he may have been a secret agent himself at one time in the past... but with an organization that actually knows how to cover their tracks." Krieger gave everyone in the room an ominous look, one green eye open wider than the other.

"What? I never! How dare you?" Mallory demanded. "ISIS is a paragon of professionalism!" Just as she said this, she could hear Cheryl in the background yelling at Pam to get off the desk and film her weird porno elsewhere before she knocked over the rubber cement. Mallory chose to ignore this for the time being.

"Yeaaaaaaah." Krieger stated dryly. "Anywho, He has a British accent, I’m thinking Welsh. This indicates he is from overseas, but I was unable to determine more than that. All I know for certain is that after only a few months, he had built up connections with everyone worth being connected to by doing what he calls ‘favors.’ It’s more like striking open-ended deals with people for him to collect upon at his whim. And when I say everyone, I'm talking everyone from celebrities and politicians to drug lords and Yakuza. People always seem to love him: literally anyone who meets him…”

Krieger’s monologue was cut short when Cyril’s voice rang out angrily from out in the hall, interrupting the meeting. “What happened to the bathroom stalls?” They heard him demanding in desperate outrage.

Mallory glared. “Someone tell that flaccid penis to shut up! No one cares!” She snarled.

Archer started to make his way to the doorway to relay the message when Pam’s voice chimed in, just as loudly, and twice as abrasively. “I got rid of the shit buckets in the coke rooms, because the smell was messing with my nose candy!” Mallory trembled with rage. This. Right now, this was the problem, she thought. The head of ISIS rubbed her eyes. This was why she needed new personnel. Like this... Krieger hadn’t offered a name yet...

“Stop being a flaccid penis, Cyril,” Archer shouted out the door. Then, turning his head slightly, he added, “And don’t you think that’s ironic, Pam? Seeing as you’re the one always stuck on the shitter?” Message delivered, he turned back around to grin at the others, clearly pleased with himself.

“Huh, I forgot about that.” Was Pam’s thoughtful reply. 

Lana rolled her eyes. Looking at Mrs. Archer, she said, “Yep, so very professional here. Ab-so-lutely.” 

Mallory took another swig. She needed it. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world for her to deal with her employees. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to sooth the impending headache. “Enough of this.” She refocused and turned back to Krieger. “Do continue.”

Krieger stood for a moment, sidelined by the interruption, before snapping back to attention. “Yes… er… as I was saying, he was invited to join the Society after only a few months in LA. Most likely because he owns one of the most sought after and prestigious night clubs in the area, possibly the world. Lux is well known for being a piano bar, where the owner himself puts on performances of notable renown, and also for the sex parties the establishment hosts on occasion." 

This got everyone’s attention. Did he say ‘sex parties?’ Archer thought, perking up visibly… and audibly as the sound of his length pushing against his pants caught Lana’s attention, earning him a sharp glare. Honestly, he didn’t hear the rest of what Krieger was saying. 

Krieger continued, "Furthermore, he works as a civilian consultant for the LAPD, even though he clearly doesn't need the money. No one knows what his estimated value is, but whatever it is, he is absurdly wealthy. He works with the LAPD because he enjoys bringing bad guys to justice, apparently, and it is reported that on occasion, he has taken on large numbers of criminals single-highhandedly, and apparently unarmed. Often coming out of these encounters without even so much as a scratch"

"Wow!" Lana said. "Just, wow!" She started to fan herself about half way through the description, but a little voice in the back of her head kept saying, so where's the catch? What's wrong with him, and why is Krieger so interested? Also, did he refer to him as ‘the subject?'

"Yeah," Archer agreed, thoughtfully. "Did you say sex parties? Like, with hot women? Lots of hot, rich women? And sex?" 

"He seems perfect, Krieger," Mallory hummed, smiling in an almost predatory way at the image. Come to think of it, Krieger had a predatory look too. Lana was a bit worried by that, but she brushed the concern aside.

"But there _is _a catch." Krieger added cheerily, as an afterthought. "Either he is just using this to drum up business, or else, he is certifiably crazy, because he calls himself Lucifer Morningstar, and insists that he is the actual Devil." Krieger’s hungry grin got bigger. "If we work with him, I will need to run some tests. I must find out what is going on in that peculiar brain of his." He continued sadistically. "So many experiments… and a full physical as well, making use of my…. Ah… facilities.” He said fanning his fingers together with shifting eyes.

"Woah, Red flag! Noop!" Lana said, the illusion shattered. Why on earth would Krieger even suggest someone who was insane? Scratch that. This was the same guy who thought robot death battles were a great idea. This was a delicate operation, not a circus show, and she did _not _need to be babysitting a lunatic the entire time, especially when half of the people in the room were already looking at him like he was a piece of meat!

"Wait, what?" Archer balked. "Like, the actual, real, horns and goat-feet Devil, with the pitchfork and the fiery damnation?" He started laughing now. "That is hilarious, like really, really?” The not-so-secret agent doubled over, shaking his head as he continued. “I could be working with a guy who thinks he is really the Devil? That could be a movie!” Now he was starting to sound exited. “The Spy and the Devil! Or better yet, they can call it, Devil Agents! That would be epic!" Everyone in the room just stared at him, not sure if he was dumb enough to believe the charming man on the monitor was actually the devil or not.

"Nonsense," Mallory said, her mind already clearly made up. "You said he most likely previously worked for a secret spy agency. Odds are, this metaphor is a way to cover up his true identity. Might even be a reference to his code name. He may be out of the business, but you are never truly out. He is obviously speaking in code." She wasn't entirely convinced by this herself, but it hardly mattered to her. Mr. Morningstar was the correct choice. The only choice. She was already imaging what she was going to do with him in the privacy of her home after hours.

The other three considered her theory and shrugged it off. It made a certain amount of sense, and seeing as Mallory had clearly already made up her mind anyway, there was no point in arguing.

"Awesome!" Archer declared. "I'm going undercover with the Devil, how cool is that?!"

"Not the actual Devil, Archer," Lana reminded him, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in contempt. This was going to be a disaster, she could already tell.

"Great!" exclaimed Krieger, "Shall I make contact?"

***

"You want Lucifer to do what?!?" Detective Chloe Decker exclaimed at Lieutenant Pierce in utter and complete disbelief. "A Spy??? That is the _worst _idea I have ever heard! He is about as subtle as a firework going off in a paper lantern store!” She was still trying to process what she had been told, but it was just too much. Sure, Lucifer had an amazing skill set... but she was really worried about his well-being, he was most definitely NOT spy material.

Pierce snorted in response to what she said and shook his head. “Really, Decker? Fireworks in a paper store? Not really much of an analogy. I mean, even if it goes off, not a lot would happen.”

“Fireworks are flashy.” Chloe defended, irritated that he was completely missing the point. “But I suppose that’s true,” she conceded after a moment, glancing between her lieutenant and the other person in the room, an older woman wearing a blue dress suit.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Well, what analogy would you use, Lieutenant?” She sounded genuinely intrigued.

“Napalm at a peace rally.”

Chloe snorted. “I guess that_ is _a better description.” She agreed, chuckling a little bit.

The strange woman in question grinned almost evilly. “I don’t see the problem then. Napalm is _very _effective at peace rallies in _my _experience.”

“Are you joking?” Chloe glared at the woman, then turned back to her superior. “This is _not _a good idea, you have to see that, too.” the detective looked at him expectantly, but he just shrugged and sighed in response.

"I’m not the one making the request, Decker, its ISIS." Pierce said patiently, rubbing his eyes.

"As in the Terrorist organization?" Chloe exclaimed, baffled, turning her attention to the still unintroduced woman standing beside them.

"No, of course not," the strange woman said indignantly. "We were called ISIS long before those miscreants stole our name. And, yes, we need someone on the inside to get our guys in, and we looked him up. According to our Intel, he has some remarkable talents, which I feel would be advantageous in this mission." Chloe looked her over carefully, using her detective brain to search for an explanation. The woman seemed like a reasonably wealthy older woman in a clear position of authority. She had grey hair and blue eyes, with sharp, not unattractive features which had aged gracefully, and an arrogant air about her every move. Whatever reason she had for coming here and requesting Lucifer, Chloe could tell there was no getting this woman to budge, but perhaps, if Chloe tried reason, Pierce might be swayed to veto the request outright. Why was he even going along with it? 

"Did your Intel inform you that he never lies? I don't know about you, but last time I checked, fibbing is kind of important if you’re going to be acting as an undercover spy." Chloe countered, hoping to knock sense into them and rid them both of the ridiculous notion that her quirky courageous and often totally oblivious partner would do well in a spy operation. Undercover detective work was tricky enough as it was.

"I'm sure he is very trustworthy." The obnoxious woman stated dismissively. Chloe was baffled.

"Look, Decker, it isn't really up to me, or you, for that matter. It’s up to Lucifer. You and I both know we won’t be able to stop him if he decides he wants in, so the best we can do is support from our end if he does. Where is he, anyway?" He asked, sounding tired and annoyed. 

"Late, most likely," Chloe said, feeling triumphant. Maybe if this idiotic woman saw how unprofessional her partner was, she would change her mind.

"I'm sure he has a very good reason for that," The woman replied calmly. What was with her, making excuses for Lucifer when she hadn’t even seen him yet? Couldn't she take a hint? Just then, the door opened, and Lucifer glided in, the picture of grace, holding a cup of coffee with Chloe's name on it. 

"Good Morning, Detective, I've brought you your swill for the day!” He exalted. “Can't imagine why you insist on drinking this calorie-starved, sorry excuse for a beverage when I am certain I could get you something far more delectable if you would just let me. But either way, it is what you desire, and as you know, I am _all _about fulfilling desires." He insinuated conspiratorially, as he handed the beverage over, and smoothly slid into the seat nearest to her, reclining back as if he hadn't a care in the world. "What's all this about a confidential meeting, now?" His voice was like honey, and Chloe had to remind herself not to smile immediately upon his arrival, especially when she saw him looking at her so affectionately.

“Um..." Pierce cleared his throat uncomfortably, clearly irritated by how Lucifer was acting like he owned the place. Again. "Lucifer, this is Mrs. Mallory Archer..." He began.

"Miss, if you please, I am single, after all, my dear man," The grey haired woman said suggestively inching closer to Lucifer, a thirsty look in her eyes, which left Chloe with a bad taste in her mouth. Seriously? Was she just trying to hire Lucifer because she wanted to get in his pants??? What was with everyone always losing their senses around him?

"Sorry.” Pierce sad unconvincingly. “_Miss _Archer, here is inquiring about borrowing you for a... uh... mission of the highest importance... as a, ah... as a spy consultant?" He was obviously at a loss for how to word it, but the moment he said spy, Lucifer predictably perked up. Of course he would, Chloe thought. To him, everything was a game, and Chloe was fairly certain that playing spy sounded like a great deal of fun to him. He had no regard for his personal well-being, whatsoever.

"A spy, is it?" He asked, looking tickled. "Me? How... delightful.” He chuckled a bit as he leaned back into his seat again. “A poorly conceived notion, mind you.” He crinkled his eyes thoughtfully for a minute, which gave Chloe the briefest moment of hope before lighting up again. “Sounds absolutely splendid!" He turned his head, looking the lecherous woman in the eye, trying to read her. "So does that mean I get a code name?" He queried.

"Oh, you," Mallory Archer giggled, completely toppled by his gaze, "How very droll of you."

"Droll?" He asked, innocently. “Well, I suppose I can be from time to time..?” He seemed genuinely confused as he tilted his head to scrutinize the woman in front of him, furrowing his brow in that very specific way he often does when he seems to be clueless about something he feels he ought to understand.

"No." Chloe said in a matter of fact tone. "Just, no. This is a terrible idea, Lucifer,"

"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" He nearly sang, all mirth, and not a drop of seriousness in him.

"So you're in?" The deplorable woman beamed. Chloe could see Pierce cringe a little, obviously not entirely game either. Lucifer leaned in closer to the awful woman, taking her hand. She swooned at his touch. Chloe rolled her eyes, wondering once again why everyone seemed to be side-lined by his charm except her. It was like people forgot how to think around him.

"It would be my genuine pleasure," He purred, "And as the detective knows, I am _all _about pleasure."

***

Elsewhere, a man dressed from head to toe in black held a phone to his ear, twirling a pistol in his other hand playfully. He had a nasty grin on his face. Bright eyes all a-twinkle.

“Yes, my love, the target will be unarmed. Easily dispatched of.” The sensual voice on the other line hummed out, the rich Russian accent adding a deep sultry smoothness to her every word. He loved it when she took command like that. 

“Okidoki, it’ll be over before he knows what hit him. Literally. Bullets tend to have that effect on people.” The man replied with an upbeat lilt as he continued to toy with his weapon. Absentmindedly, he brushed it through his blonde hair as if it were a comb.

“Good. Until your return, my love.” Came her simple reply. The line went dead.

“I love you too, honey bunny.” He muttered, dropping his phone in frustration. She never let him say good bye properly. Oh well, it was a simple enough assignment, and hay, maybe while he was in town, he could take a shot at Archer. Dispatch of him as a perk. More like dismember. That would really make his day. The man started to laugh manically. This was going to be so much fun.


	2. Pineapples and Tinnitus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer meets the members of ISIS, Chloe is worried about her partner.

“Check out the snack!” Cheryl exclaimed as the new guy walked in; tall, dark and handsome was definitely her type. She looked at his long graceful fingers and imagined them closing around her delicate neck, slowly squeezing the life out of her. She swooned.

“That’s not a snack, Girlie,” Pam said, leaning on the desk, taking a bight out of a doughnut, and swallowing it after only a couple chomps. “That’s a five star meal, three courses at lease, with desert!” 

Not unexpectedly, everyone at the ISIS headquarters was staring at the newcomer as he walked in behind Mallory Archer. He was looking over the documents in his hands, completely oblivious or completely uninterested in everyone’s attention as if he knew and didn’t care how entrancing his presence was. “Why am I to sign these again? I’ve no interest in paperwork.” He huffed as he flipped through them.

“They are necessary, so I’m told. Insurance forms, payment information… waivers…” Mallory explained disinterested. Those hippies running the country ruined everything with their bureaucracy.

“Oh, I don’t need any of that!” Lucifer dismissed, contentedly tossing the papers behind him. Cyril ran up immediately upon seeing this, desperately grabbing the pages as they fluttered happily through the air and tried to put them back in order, completely aghast at the new recruit’s utter disregard. 

“I’m immortal, so you won’t be needing to worry about me getting hurt, and I certainly don’t need the money. I’m here because it sounds fun, so let’s not spoil the game with paperwork, shall we?” He smirked at the head of ISIS as he spoke. She clearly liked this idea. This would save her a great deal of money. Why couldn’t the rest of her people think like this? They could learn a thing or two from him.

“Well, I suppose we could just keep your temporary involvement with ISIS… off record,” Mallory agreed all too quickly, turning to lean into him with an admiring gaze. Lucifer, for his part, leaned back as if he were repelled by her magnetically. 

From the other room, Krieger poked his head out, a look of delight on his face. “The subject has arrived!” He declared, head disappearing behind the door again for a moment, only to reemerge with a syringe in hand. 

“You mean, our new colleague?” Lana said, strolling out of the break-room, looking at him and the syringe suspiciously.

“Also, yes.” Krieger said, as he advanced, giving Lana a wide berth so she couldn’t grab at him or the syringe. He made quick paces, rapidly closing the distance between himself and his new subject, an eager, diabolical look in his eyes.

Archer came from his mother’s office, tumbler in hand, to get a look at the new guy as well. He looked him up and down, sizing up the competition. He had to reluctantly admit, the man was charming enough, but how would he handle under fire? Archer was fairly certain he was still the better in this regard. Still, he had to admit he liked the way this guy had tossed the papers aside with such indifference. Indifference was a rare virtue in Archer’s mind, and it was going to be nice having someone else around who actively practiced it. 

Lucifer smiled, pleased with the attention he was garnering from everyone. He was quite used to commanding a room with his presence, and as always, he loved it. What he was not used to however, was people trying to inject drugs into him, via syringe stabs at the neck. They usually asked first. Good manners, and all that. And a syringe was just silly, anyway. It stood no chance against his rather impenetrable skin. Krieger stared in disbelieving shock at the needle as it bent upon contact, not one drop of the sedative getting in. Then he fixed a smile on his face, as Mr. Morningstar turned to regard him, insult etched into his eyes. This expression changed abruptly, however, as soon as he got a look at his attacker. Recognition and disbelief. What? Krieger was taken completely aback by this. It was hardly the expression he was expecting.

“Hitler?!?” The former Lord of Hell exclaimed, a surprised smile falling into place. “What in Dad’s name are you doing out of Hell, Adolf? And what’ve you done to your hair?” He demanded, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder in a manner that felt both threatening and friendly.

“How did you…” Mallory started, before cutting herself short. Where had he gotten intelligence on Krieger being Hitler’s clone? That was meant to be top secret! The head of ISIS was thoroughly impressed. He was clearly a professional of the highest order.

“What? I… no… you must be mistaking!” Krieger croaked, backing up and away from Lucifer’s touch, a twinge of exciting fear coursing through him. Obviously, this subject was far more interesting than he had previously thought, and far more dangerous as well.

Lana smirked, amused by how easily the new guy had put Krieger off his game. Maybe she wasn’t going to need to babysit after all. Archer raised his eyebrow, intrigued by the way he had somehow prevented Krieger from drugging him. Cheryl started to freak out about Nazis and Pam reluctantly led her away. Then Lucifer did something that surprised everyone in the room, especially Krieger.

“Vergiss es” _never mind that._ Lucifer smiled pleasantly. Mr. Morningstar’s accent was flawless, and he slid into the language like it was his first. Krieger gawked. Everyone did. “Ich bin sicher, dass Vater dich sowieso bald zurückschicken wird.” _I’m sure Dad will send you back in no time anyway._ He shrugged, remembering how quickly Abel had been sent back to Hell. “Bis dahin könnten wir uns die Zeit ein wenig vertreiben, wo kann ich hier eine gute Ananas bekommen?”_ In the meantime, I suppose I can pick up the slack. Where can I find a good pineapple around here? _ There was an amused twinkle in his eye as he asked this last bit.

Blinking, Krieger answered him in German, forgetting himself for a moment. “Ich habe keine Ahnung, wovon sie da reden!” _I have no idea what you are talking about! _“Wofür brachen Sie eine Ananas?” _Why do you need a pineapple? _

“Oh, darling, you know the reason.” Lucifer grinned wolfishly, slapping the discombobulated man on the rump jovially. Krieger flinched. And no, he had no idea why. It made him feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable, however, and he found himself inching back, eyes darting nervously from side to side.

“You know German?” Lana exclaimed. 

Lucifer and Krieger replied at the same instant. “Yes!” Lucifer chirped. “No!” Krieger decreed, retreating to the safety of his lab. 

“I know every language,” Lucifer explained as he turned his attention to the stunning woman before him, and his smile grew into one of clear appreciation. Tall, shapely, strong and athletic, legs that go on forever. Her skin was the perfect shade; a soft sun kissed sienna, and she had full lips, clever eyes, high cheekbone, and a short white form-fitting dress which left little to the imagination. Her silky umber hair was done up in a well-shaped ponytail, framing her beautiful face perfectly. “And you are?” He ventured, extending his hand in greeting and smiling with the full force of his charm.

“You’re a linguist?” Mallory breathed, imagining him speaking dirty in French, but the daydream was shattered the moment she saw the way he was looking at Lana. Damn that woman and her sweater-dress, getting between them! She would not have it. Not that there was much of anything she could do at the moment, but this did not stop the mistress of selfishness from plotting.

Lana was floored by his attention. She was giddy at the thought of successfully annoying both Archer and his mother in one go, while possibly finally getting the attention she deserved, and from this man, well... Her heart started to race. “Lana Kane,” She gushed breathlessly.

“Well, my dear, not only are you a true work of art, but likely the most competent and intelligent person here.” He praised, kissing her on the hand. That was it. He was perfect! Lana’s smile spread from ear to ear. A work of art? And the most intelligent person here? Best. Compliment. Ever. Take that, Archer! Mallory fumed. Archer glared and pulled Lana away indignantly, looking at Lucifer with murder in his eyes. Cyril nearly dropped the papers he was still holding in despair. How was he supposed to compete with that? Lucifer didn’t seem to care about any of this… or else he had not noticed.

“Lana is not interested.” Archer snapped.

“Oh, but I rather think that is up to her, my good man.” Lucifer remarked, turning his winning smile on the possessive interloper. Archer’s resolve cracked a bit under that gaze… but only a little.

“Yeah, it _is _up to me, ARCHER.” Lana retorted, pulling her hand free with force and shoving him off of her indignantly, causing him to stumble slightly.

“Yeah, whatever, Lana, but you’re not thinking clearly, he must have hypnotized you or something, because this is obviously a bad idea!” Archer snapped. “And you!” He growled, directing his glare onto the Night Club Owner, and would-be spy, “You are headed into dangerous territory! So you better ease up unless you want to get caught in the _Danger Zone_!”

Belatedly, Lucifer took notice of the emotions running rampant, and realized that he may have unintentionally done something humans consider to be inappropriate. Not really wanting to agitate anyone, he decided to try to put the man – Archer – at ease. He looked him up and down. Well-groomed, thick shining black hair, clean shaven, vibrant piercing blue eyes (he particularly liked that) a slight cleft in his chin… this man had a classically handsome look to him, and his body was clearly in excellent shape. Probably built like a Greek statue under that suit. Likely had lots of stamina, too. The Devil decided he liked what he saw, and knew exactly how to disarm him. “I’m rather fond of the ‘Danger Zone,’ actually, but if you are ever in the mood, I’m up for just about anything. A threesome, perhaps?” He offered in a sultry tone, sliding closer to Archer seductively.

Archer was completely unprepared for the full effect of the gaze that was now leveled on him. The sex parties were starting to make a lot of sense. And the fact that he seemed to get the _Danger Zone _reference only made Archer feel less hostile toward him. He was even more unprepared for how much he did not _hate_ the idea! 

“Um… yeah, I… no… yeah… I… uh…” He fumbled. It would probably be a lot more fun than the last threesome he and Lana were involved in, but he was not sure how to take this. Lana blushed a bit and made an effort to look disinterested. Lucifer, for his part, simply laughed. 

“Just consider it an open invitation,” He shrugged. In response, Archer scurried away to reassess his preconceptions. In his hurry to get away, he retreated into Krieger’s lab, mostly because it was close by. 

As he barged in, he saw the madman pacing, talking out loud, as his holographic wife listened patiently. “The subject has shown an unexpected resilience to needles. I will need to find another means of penetration.” He muttered.

“Oh, God, Krieger! Phrasing!” Archer blanched, making another quick retreat to his mother’s office, where he could find plenty of alcohol to drown his confusion. This did not phase the scientist’s musings even for a moment. He likely had not even noticed the interruption.

“Perhaps an anal probe? No, that’s no good. I need to see what’s going on in his brain. Perhaps I can put the drugs into a beverage and offer it to him. That may work. The subject seems to be on to me, however, so I should have a third party do this for me…”

“What subject, Krieger-san?” His holo-wife asked in her dainty Japanese accent.

“SILENCE, YOU!” Krieger snapped. The poor A.I. shrank back sadly. “Blasted woman, let me think!” She started to cry piteously, as Krieger muttered one last thought under his breath. “The Devil can have her.”

***

“Just make sure you get a clear assessment of the situation while you’re there, Decker.” Pierce was saying. “I need to know what sort of organization this ISIS is.”

“Yeah, I get it. That Mrs. Archer seemed a little off to me, too.” Chloe agreed as she approached the building. Did she get the wrong address? It looked like it was a laundromat, of all things. Shrugging, she looked over the instructions she had been given and let herself in, Lucifer’s employee information in hand. “Looks like I’m here, so I’ll update you when I’m done.”. She reported, ending the call. Shortly after Lucifer had left, a man had called from ISIS, requesting background information on her partner, which made sense, seeing as they were going to be working with him, and both she and her lieutenant had decided that this would give them an opportunity to get a better feel of the spy agency they had sent their valued civilian consultant into. Chloe desperately hoped that the mannerisms of the dreadful woman who had visited the LAPD would not be a reflection on the agency as a whole, but somehow, her instincts suggested otherwise.

***

Sometime later, Lucifer found himself standing next to Archer and Lana, his current team members, gun in hand, looking at the targets in the firing range with a bewildered expression. This place was clearly a mad house. After years of being told by the detective not to mix work and pleasure, he couldn’t help but notice that this is all any of the people here seemed to do. First of all, there was that Manky Red-Tart, Cheryl. She had not only made advances, but practically threw herself at him, demanding that he choke her! Usually a people pleaser, Lucifer was a little surprised by how _un_interested he was in fulfilling her desires, but there was something about her (maybe it was the crazed look in her eyes, or else the smell of rubber cement in her breath), it was just very unsettling. When he easily pushed her off, she shuddered with delight at the less-than-gentle manner with which she had been discarded. The fallen archangel found himself hoping he would never run into her in Hell; not because she didn’t deserve it (she was definitely going there), but rather because he didn’t think_ he _deserved it.

Then there was the bigger one, Pam. She had not stopped making innuendos the entire time. He had cheekily commented something about “how would HR respond to this,” and found out to his surprise that she _was _the HR department. Good. That meant he wouldn’t have to worry about saying anything that might get him into trouble. If she were less jarring to be around, he might have taken her up on the offer for drugs and sex in the armory, but as it was, no. He was not interested. He had standards after all. But it was still fun showing off to the armory guard - and to everyone else - when he simply opened the locked door and let himself in. The man behind the glass wall had kept saying something about unbreakable locks and impenetrable security being there for a reason, but the simple-minded man was silenced easily enough with a mere glance. Well, that, and Lucifer’s quip about being able to_ penetrate _anything. 

Then there was Hitler, now calling himself Krieger. For the life of him, the fallen celestial could not figure out how the scoundrel had gotten out of Hell, but there he was. His hair was different, and smartly enough, he did not sport that ridiculous ‘stach… but there was no denying who he was. For whatever reason, the lunatic seemed intent on trying to perform ‘tests’ on Lucifer. He had overheard the dullard going on about anal probes and brain scans. One would think, after having been in Hell for so long, that the dunce would know better, but whatever. Lucifer started contemplating on what type of pineapple to get. It needed to be_ just _the right shape; oval with a broad base, plenty of sharp little points, and citric enough to be truly aromatic. Finding the perfect pineapple took a scrutinizing eye.

As for the two secret agents he was to introduce to the _Beau Monde Society,_ well, there was so much sexual tension between these two it nearly made _him_ uncomfortable, and that was really saying something. He was going to have to do something to help them alleviate their frustrations. That was going to be fun. 

They had been debriefed by the lecherous old minger in her office earlier. Apparently, someone was trying to kill the prime minister. No one bothered to tell him which one. Bad guys had infiltrated the society, which was not hard. The Manky Red-Tart was already a member, after all. Why had they not thought to use her to get these two in? Did they not know? There was to be a gala in two days, and, according to their sources, the attempt would be made then. Lucifer was to attend the event with these two as his plus one… and plus one more? At that point, he was given explicit instructions to “stay out of the way” from Archer. His partners were to track down the intruders, while he acted as a distraction, but should things go south, they needed to know how well he could handle a gun, so here they were, in the firing range, guns ready, and egos ramped. 

“No, Archer, I don’t think we need to teach him how to shoot.” Lana stated for probably the fifth time.

“Oh, really? The LAPD doesn’t let him use a gun, so obviously, he can’t shoot!” Archer argued. Lucifer was not sure how to take being argued over like this. He had seen the Detective and the Douche fight over their offspring like this many times, and honestly, he did not know how to take it, so he just stared at the two, fidgeting every so often with his cufflinks uncomfortably.

“Why not just let him try? He might surprise you!” She waved her hand indignantly at Archer, adding, “I mean, you’re not the only person in the world who knows how to shoot!”

“What part of ‘Greatest Secret Agent in the World’ do you not understand?” Archer remarked pointing the gun at the target and letting the bullets fly. His aim was, of course, perfect. The problem was that he was standing right there by Lucifer, and when he fired the gun, it had been mere inches from his_ very _keen ear. The sound was deafening; intense enough that Lucifer, with his superior celestial hearing, was left suddenly seeing spots. A sharp ringing in his ear caused him to wince and stumble slightly. “See him top that!” Archer announced proudly, utterly unaware of the damage he had done. 

Lucifer shook his head at the ruckus in his ear, baffled by the new, and rather deplorable sensation. “Bloody Hell! That was right in my ear!” The former Lord of Hell exclaimed in obvious dismay, bringing his hand to his ear, all the more distressed to find he could not hear his own voice out of the violated ear when he spoke. This was new. He didn’t think he cared for it much.

“Great, now you broke him!” Lana snapped. “And by the way, those shots were sub-par at best,” It was her turn to fire. She, too, was too close to the already agitated Lucifer, and as she aimed, her firearm lined up next to his good ear. With no more consideration than Archer had, she shot repeatedly at the targets. Now he had a ringing in _both _his ears. _Fan-Bloody-Tastic!_

“Dad help me! What is wrong with you two?!?” Lucifer glowered, startled into a near panic when he realized he couldn’t quite hear his own voice. This caused them both to stop arguing and look at him as his hands came to his ears and tears came to his eyes. Tears which he did NOT permit to spill over, mind you, he had far too much dignity for that. The sound of a low snarl escaped his lips. It was almost inhuman, and entirely uncanny. After a moment, when he felt his hearing start to return, he continued, glaring at the two careless agents. “No wonder your boss came looking for me! You two are worse than demons!” He snapped. Both agents just stared at him. Lana was embarrassed, and Archer was amused.

“Tinnitus is a pain, am I right?” Archer said, not sympathetically.

Lucifer just glared at him, eyes flashing red for a brief moment as he fired off the gun he had selected from the armory. Not once did he take his eyes off the gormless human. Lucifer hit every target dead center. The message was clear.

“Holy Shit!” Lana exclaimed, looking at the flawless execution. He wasn’t even looking at the targets when he fired! He just casually lifted the gun and shot. Clearly not an amateur.

Archer, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction. He froze. Hand clenching onto his gun nervously. “A… a… are… you a… cyborg?” He squeaked. Red eyes. Red.

Lucifer’s anger dropped in an instant, as confusion once again took hold. He blinked owlishly at the confounding man. It would be nice if these humans could start making at least a little sense. “What?” He balked. He had been called many things, but a cyborg? That was new. “No! What gave you that ridiculous notion? Cyborgs aren’t even real!” Now he paused to think. These people were spies, so maybe they knew something he didn’t. “Are they?” The ringing in his ears was subsiding more significantly now. Thank Dad for angelic healing abilities. A part of him wondered why it had even hurt in the first place, the Detective wasn’t nearby, was she?

Meanwhile, in Mallory Archer’s office, Chloe waited, taking in her surroundings with a scrutinizing, critical eye. So far, she had _not _been thrilled by what she found. The secretary who greeted her had been sniffing rubber cement when she finally found her way up, and the restrooms didn’t seem to even have toilette's in the stalls… for some reason. A shifty man in a white lab coat kept asking her about Lucifer’s weaknesses, as if her goofy partner was somehow some ridiculous caped superhero from a comic book, and to top things off, she could hear two people arguing in the break-room. Something about the importance of paperwork, versus letting things go, because no one cared. She had a feeling this had something to do with Lucifer. Chloe had already decided she would need to dig a lot deeper into this ISIS, and she was starting to wonder if they were even a real spy agency.

Finally, Mrs. Archer walked in, a miffed look on her face. “Thank you for waiting, did you bring the papers?” She inquired silkily, extending her hand toward the detective.

Chloe dutifully handed them over, smiling pleasantly. “Of course, anything I can to do ensure the safety of my partner.” She replied. “Whatever it takes to make sure he makes it back in one piece.” She added, an undercurrent of warning in her otherwise friendly tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Navaros for helping with the German.
> 
> the pineapple reference is from the movie 'Little Nicky.' Worth a watch if you haven't seen it.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are very much welcomed and appreciated. Love you all for reading this. :)


	3. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quintessential Deckerstar as Chloe tries to warn Lucifer of danger.

The rooms were decent, the man in black supposed as he began to unpack. Good enough for someone like him to use as a hideout before an assassination. This job wasn’t always glamorous. And unlike Archer, he knew how to be discreet. He knew that it was about getting the job done. One could live in the lap of luxury afterward. Job first, fun… well, not after, it _was_ fun to do his job. Especially if he could get revenge at the same time. A part of him wondered if he should be thankful to Archer. After the accident (more like accidents – plural… if you could even call them accidents), he had become so much stronger, and it was so much easier to hurt people. Speaking of…

He pulled out the small slip of paper with the instructions for his mission from his black pant pocket and looked it over again. Seemed a little over complicated in his opinion, but if that was what she wanted, then that is what she would get. She could have anything she asked of him. Anything at all. The fact that it upset Archer every time they were together, well, that only made it more fun. And fun was what he was all about. Fun for him. Not for others. And especially not for Archer.

***

“Detective!” Lucifer’s voice sang through the phone. Good to know he was having fun, Chloe thought with an eye roll. Back at the precinct now, she was all business. “How are you?” He queried happily. She could hear voices in the background as he talked, and they sounded very serious.

“Is this a good time to talk, Lucifer? I mean, really talk?” Chloe asked carefully. Her mind was racing. After her visit to the ISIS headquarters, she had shared her concerns with their friends and found more than enough help gathering Intel. What they found out was more than a little upsetting, and she couldn’t, in good conscience, leave well enough alone. Not when her partner’s safety was in question. Furthermore, Lucifer still had no idea that she had even stopped by, primarily because she was ushered out as soon as Mallory Archer had gotten the paperwork she wanted, and this only helped to put Chloe more on edge. 

“No, no, there is absolutely no way.” Lucifer replied, sounding a little distant on the line. 

“Oh, I… when…” She faltered, his absolute denial of her request throwing her off.

“You have zero chance of out-drinking me, but I’m game if you really wish to find out.” Lucifer continued, voice distant. Oh, Chloe thought, of course. “I’m sorry, what was that, my dear?” Her partner’s voice was clearer now, apparently talking into the phone again. She fought back the urge to snap at him, reminding herself that when it came to confrontations with her, he spooked easily. Skittish like a cat with a cucumber.

“This is important, Lucifer, can you pause on the drinking for a moment, I need you coherent.” She said authoritatively. She heard a derisive snort on the other line.

“I am always coherent, Detective. Angelic metabolism come to harsh my mellow and smite my high at every opportunity.” Chloe had her own thoughts on that subject, but she waited, not sharing them with him. Reminding herself to be patient, she waited until he had a moment to speak. After a pause, he finally responded, “Now is good. We’ve not even started yet.”

“I did some research on this… ISIS, and it has me worried.” She started.

“Oh, look at you go, good strong start, very impressive!” 

“Lucifer?”

“No, no, more than that, my dear, keep it coming.” She heard him gulping down liquid, a satisfied sigh following. “You were saying, Detective?”

“Please focus, this really_ is_ important.” Chloe asserted as calmly as possible. She rolled her eyes, and started to make plans to go back and demand to speak to him in person if necessary, no matter how much that wretched woman tried to push her away. If only to pull him off to the side and make him listen to her.

“Oh, no, that isn’t right.” Her partner sounded annoyed. Chloe reminded herself that he was probably not talking to her. She waited, patience slipping. “You’re going to ruin perfectly good alcohol doing that. This is all top shelf, I’m not going to have you bastardize it. How would that make Mrs. Archer feel?”

“Focus, Lucifer!” Chloe snapped.

“Oh, right, right, my apologies, you have my undivided attention.” He sounded genuinely sincere, but Chloe knew he had the attention span of a gnat.

“Can you walk into another room for a minute, to avoid any further interruptions?” She suggested, trying to sound reasonable.

“Of course, of course.” He sounded earnest, so she knew he was at least trying to pay attention. She heard him starting to move around. Then he was talking to someone else again, voice more distant. “Go on and get started without me, will you. Keep count of how many you have, and I will catch up. Deal?” She heard the murmuring of other voices, one male and one female. “No, no, I give you my word, and my word is my bond.” She heard him walking with the phone. After a pause, he spoke into it again. “So, what is this about research on ISIS?” He asked.

“They have quite a reputation, and it isn’t good.” Chloe said. “They are actually rather infamous… for their _in_ability to handle their missions well. I mean, the success rate is 50-50 at best, and that is probably me being generous. With a 100% change of collateral damage. And on more occasions than not, the collateral damage involves bystanders.” She sounded more and more worried as she spoke, and she knew it. The thought of her partner in the hands of a bunch of incompetent, uncaring, gun-toting, idiots had put her in a state of near panic. She would feel much better if the LAPD were there offering back up. If _she_ was there to back him up. He could be a complete ass, but she lo—really liked working with him, and the idea of losing him was just too much.

“Oh, that sounds rather accurate to me, Detective. These people are all insane.” She heard her partner announce firmly.

“What?” Chloe exclaimed. Did Lucifer just call someone else insane? Lucifer. The guy who calls himself the Devil. Her potentially delusional, damaged, impulsive, reckless, play-boy, always-drinking-at-work, carries-too-much-money, completely-ignores-rules, often self-destructive Lucifer was calling the people at ISIS insane?

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, darling, it has been a lot of fun, but I am baffled by these people.” He laughed into the phone line, seemingly amused by his own confusion. Chloe’s heart started to constrict.

“How so, I mean, can you give me an example?” Stay calm, she told herself.

“Hmmm…” He contemplated on the other end. “Well… We are still at the headquarters, but they have a bar here, in Mrs. Archer’s office no less!” He said. “Which, as far as I am concerned, is a fabulous idea.” Chloe listened, having a sinking feeling. “We are still on the clock, but Mr. Archer proposed a drinking competition. Of course, I am more than happy to oblige… but…” Now his cheeriness faltered a bit. Chloe was fighting back the urge to tell him to get out of there before anything went down. The last thing she needed was her partner in the care of a bunch of DRUNK gun-toting LUNATICS, walking into a FIREFIGHT! She just focused on her breathing.

“But, what, Lucifer,” She encouraged as calmly as possible.

“Detective… Chloe?” His voice softened a bit, as it always did when he said her name. He sounded unsure. “Haven’t you been telling me all this time not to drink while at work? Not to mix work with pleasure? Not that I would ever stop doing precisely that, mind you… but… have I misunderstood something?” He sounded worried and confused. Worried about upsetting her? Worried he had not understood her? Or was he just worried about the situation he found himself in?

“Yes, Lucifer. I _have_ been saying that, and it is still true. What they are doing there is beyond unprofessional…” She faltered, because she heard voices talking to him on the other end, a woman’s voice. He was not listening to her. Again. Terrific.

The voice sounded demanding, but whoever it was got cut off abruptly by Lucifer snapping at them. “Do you mind? I’m on the telly!” Chloe laughed in spite of herself. He really was trying to listen. More talking - wining, more like. “What part of ‘no’ do you not understand? Now bugger off so I can talk to the Detective!” In response, she heard something about ‘love a man with strong hands..?’ “For the last time,” Lucifer snarled, “I am NOT choking you, and I am not interested! I like my bed fellows to be a little less… barmy.” He sounded mildly disgusted. She heard him roughly pushing something away… or was it pushing someone off of him? Chloe’s blood boiled. Sure, her partner liked to sleep around, and that was annoying enough, but the idea of anyone trying to insist on sex kink when he was actually _not_ interested for once… that was too much.

“Do you need me to come over there and straighten someone out?” She demanded, seriously hoping he would say yes.

“What? You too? No! I am not signing those documents! I already told you,” Lucifer was saying, and another voice, male this time, sounded like he was protesting.

“What documents? What are they trying to coerce you into?” Chloe didn’t even care that her voice sounded shrill now. 

“Do you malcontents not see, I am trying to talk to… oh, yes, actually, I could use those drinks right about now.” Gulping and drinking sounds, again. “Tell that Manky Red-Tart to… ah, yes… that. Thank you, my dear.”

“Lucifer?” Chloe attempted. 

“I stand by my first assertion. Incident in the firing range aside, you’re still the only person I’ve seen with a drop of sense around here.” Lucifer was saying to someone. Chloe decided to just listen, hoping that maybe this person - whoever it was - might be enough to keep him safe. “Yes, the detective also thinks it is in poor form to drink at work.” He laughed at something said. “But I’ve already committed. Gave my word.” Pause. “Was that wrong?” Another pause as a female voice was speaking to him. “Very well, it will not happen a second time, but would you be a lamb and keep your coworkers at bay so I can finish my conversation?” Chloe heard a reply. “Oh, I suppose I will owe you…_ anything _you _desire._” He said it in that way he does when he is very interested in someone. “I’m a Devil of my word.”

“Who was that?” Chloe asked her partner after she did not hear any more side conversation.

“Agent Kane.” Lucifer said smoothly. “What did your research say about her?” Chloe wasn’t sure, so she pulled up Ella’s research on the computer to look it over again.

“Give me a minute…” She found the information on a Lana Kane, and Chloe was taken aback by how lovely she was. A sinking feeling hit her. No. she told herself, I am not getting jealous. There’s no reason for her to get jealous over Lucifer. No reason what-so-ever. 

She focused on the file, ignoring the image. Thank goodness Ella knew people who were good at digging up info, and thank God for her eccentric roommate, who was great at digging things up too… with a little ‘leg work,’ as she called it. Chloe had not asked how either of them came by the information, she was just glad she had it. Lana Kane’s reputation was solid. This was a surprise, after everything else she had read about ISIS. There was nothing on there about her being unprofessional. Good. There was hope. Then she noticed the note Maze had written about the woman in question. She read it twice, rolling her eyes. It said, ‘Hot as Hell. Would totally do her. Good at her job, but always fighting with the Duchess. Compromises her effectiveness. Suggested action: take out the Duchess.’

“Well?” Lucifer asked. “Is there anything?”

“Who is the Duchess?” Chloe asked, bemused. 

There was a pause, and when he spoke, he sounded amused. “I do believe the Duchess is the code name for Sterling Archer, the self-proclaimed ‘Greatest Secret Agent in the World.’” The line grew silent after he said this, like he was turning an idea over in his mind. Chloe had her own thoughts to work through as well. Archer was the same last name as that woman who had plucked Lucifer away from her – from the LAPD. Arrogance must run in the family. After a short interlude, Lucifer started up again, sounding thoughtful. “Not much of a secret when he keeps singing about it to everyone. I’m all for being honest, of course, so I can’t fault him for that, but don’t you think he ought to just call himself the Greatest Agent in the World, and drop the whole ‘secret’ bit when it isn’t a secret?” He started to laugh again, then added, “Why?”

Chloe sighed. This Archer fellow sounded like a real piece of work. “Agent Kane has a solid reputation, but Maze reported that her only issue is that she is always arguing with him. Suggested action was to take out the Duchess.” Chloe laughed a bit as she said it, already anticipating how her violence-loving partner was likely to respond.

“Ooh, that would be a delightful fight to watch!” Lucifer chirped happily, but after a pause and a resigned sigh, he added, “But, I suppose it isn’t really an option, is it?” Chloe smiled. He sounded disappointed, but she was proud of him for figuring this out on his own.

“No, it isn’t.” She agreed. “But… Lucifer?” Now she was back to sounding worried. 

“Yes?” Before she could continue she heard more talking on the other line. God! Couldn’t these people just give him space for a few minutes??? “Oh, give it here! What is this drink? Fuzzy Navel? Doesn’t look like one… the balance is off. More like Sasquatch’s Navel! But bottoms up, I suppose.” Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes again. Why did Lucifer _always_ have to stick to his word? After the sound of his drinking had stopped, he spoke into the phone again. How many drinks had he consumed by now? “Forgive me, Detective, but the competition is in full swing now… not that they have a chance, but… you were saying?”

“I would feel a lot better about this if I was there… or…” Chloe started, but she was cut short.

“Absolutely NOT! I will _not_ have you mixed in with these mad men when I might not be able to protect you!” Lucifer practically yelled into the phone, taking her completely off kilter. So he knew how dangerous this was, and he was more than happy to put his life on the line. Again.

“But you need back-up, or else you need to back ou…”

“But, nothing. I will be perfectly fine… as long as I don’t have to worry about you in the middle of this. And if you were about to suggest I back out, that is simply not an option. There are bad guys out there in need of being punished, and everything I have seen since I arrived here has me convinced that if I don’t work with ISIS on this, said bad guys will just get away. Unpunished.” Lucifer had that same resolute, slightly vicious tone he always had when he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands. This worried her. He was always at his most reckless when he was like this. For Lucifer, justice was more important than his own well-being. It was more than a little insulting that he felt she would be a liability, especially considering how many times she had saved his butt, but she understood his concern. It was the same concern she had for him.

“Okay, then what do you propose. Who do you feel would be a better choice? Because you need someone there you can rely on.” Chloe reasoned.

“Not Detective Douche… he is your offspring’s father, and completely useless in a real fight…” Lucifer mused. Chloe smirked. She wasn’t sure why Lucifer was so convinced that Dan couldn’t handle himself in a fight, but this was a recurring theme with them. “Lieutenant Pierce is competent enough, and… I like him, but he has his own agenda, so that’s a no-go.” Lucifer continued. Chloe had to agree with him there as well, except for the part about liking him. She hated the man.

“What about my ninja roommate?” Chloe proposed, knowing that Maze always had Lucifer’s back when it really mattered. No matter how mad she would get at him, she was always willing to save him from mortal danger… right before she would punch him in his smug face.

Lucifer seemed to consider the idea, but before he could answer, she heard voices talking to him again. “Yes, I know.” More talking. “I must commend you, my good man, it is really rather impressive that you are handling so well.” More talking. “The conversation is nearly done, I assure you.” More talking, again. “I am the only one who gets to call the Detective a Buzz Kill!” Lucifer snapped at the person on the other end. Chloe smiled at his protectiveness, and rolled her eyes again. She was doing a lot of that, she noticed wryly. And it bothered her a little that he had not disagreed, but that was Lucifer, for you. “Give me all three.” He suggested to whoever he was talking to. Chloe sighed. She waited, knowing there was no point in asking him to stop. Seriously, though, how was it that he wasn’t even sounding rummy yet? 

After a short pause, she ventured to see if he was ready to continue. “You good, now?” She asked.

“Hardly. I am _never_ good, I’m the Devil, remember?” Lucifer replied silkily. “And any time you want me to show you how naughty I can…”

“Not now, Lucifer,” Chloe cut him off. She could almost hear the disappointment in his silence.

“Very well.” He sighed.

“So, Maze?” Chloe offered again.

“Tell her not to let them spot her until it is absolutely necessary. I don’t know how willing they would be to let another person in on this, but yes. Maze is an excellent idea.” Lucifer agreed. Chloe sighed with relief. Knowing that Maze was going to be there to keep him safe made her feel much better about everything. Chloe knew that Maze would protect him, no matter what. Always.

“And we are here in case you need us to back you up at any point, in any way.” Chloe reminded.

“For which I am quite appreciative, but I assure you, it will not be necessary. I’m not some delicate flower in need of tending.” Lucifer groused. Again, Chloe had her own thoughts about that. Her so-called-Devil partner really didn’t like being worried over, but she knew better. Some Devil he is: still bleeds when he gets shot just like the rest of us, she thought.

“I know you’re not, but you’re my partner, and I am entitled to worry over you. It’s my job, and I… I care about you, so let me worry, and let us help.” She implored. 

Another sigh. “If you must. But I really will be fine. As long as you stay a safe distance away.” He assured her in that gentle voice he typically reserved for only her. It made her heart feel light.

“How about we make a deal.” Chloe proposed, knowing her partner.

“I’m listening.”

“I stay out of it until this is over, but you have Ella or Dan on speed dial, and keep us updated on the case as it unfolds so we can have our guys ready to assist at a moment’s notice.” 

“Oh, this is delicious!” Lucifer purred to someone else. Chloe glared at the phone. “You must tell me how to make another!”

“Did you catch that?” Chloe asked, not hiding her frustration.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course.” He was addressing her again. “If I do this, you will not get involved?” He sounded very serious all of a sudden. 

“Cross my heart.” Chloe promised.

There was a pause on the other end before she heard his reply. “Deal.”

***

Sometime later, after the sun had set, Lucifer was still lounging in Mrs. Archer’s chair, feet on the desk, drink in one hand, phone in the other. Archer and Pam were passed out on the floor nearby, drinks partially consumed at their sides. Pam had clocked out some time ago, but Archer, he had kept going for quite a while more. No wonder he was cocky about his abilities, Lucifer mused. He had never seen a human put down so much alcohol. Had he not been the Devil he was, he was fairly certain Archer would have won. At first, he assumed it was just arrogance, but it seemed it was well founded confidence. The man had to have an iron liver. He smiled to himself, genuinely impressed. Sterling Archer had a grating personality, but he couldn’t help but respect someone with such a talent for drinking. Even with his angelic metabolism, Lucifer felt a slight buzz after keeping pace with this human. It was rather remarkable. Finally, a decent drinking buddy. Lucifer yawned luxuriantly, stretching his long limbs like a cat. It had been a full day. Mostly fun, very interesting.

He turned his attention back to the phone in his hand and continued to scroll through pictures of pineapples. He wasn’t sure that online shopping was the best option however, and calling suppliers and providing his description of the ideal fruit had proven fruitless as well. He was just going to have to go pineapple hunting in the morning. He sighed, closed the search engine, and turned off the phone, taking another sip of his drink. Looking around, he noticed bottles were scattered everywhere, and he decided then and there that he was going to have to reimburse the head of ISIS for the drinks. Where was she, anyway? Shrugging, he finished his drink and stood to leave. As he walked out, he had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. Again, he shrugged, assuming it was most likely true. The people here were all nutters. 

Shortly after Lucifer had departed, a figure emerged from a hidden alcove, behind a fake wall, which had secretly been added some time ago. Krieger looked at the mess of bottles in disbelief. He had drugged seven of the subject’s drinks, having paid off Pam to help in this, and he knew she had not only put the drugs into the drinks, but she had handed them each to him directly, one at a time. He had never seen anyone out-drink Archer, and Krieger had not believed it was possible. Even more surprising was the fact that he had done so while also drinking down very powerful sedatives… and he had just walked out of here. Not even tipsy! By all rights, the man ought to be dead. This wasn’t Krieger’s intent, of course. He had just kept upping the dosage, waiting for something to happen. 

“The subject clearly has a supernatural tolerance.” Krieger mused in awe. “I will need to study much more than his brain, it seems. His delusions make a small measure of sense, considering his constitution.” The scientist’s brain was racing, trying to figure out how this could be possible, when an idea hit him with absolute clarity. This man was likely a former member of a top secret organization, as he had previously suspected, and being in possession of super-human qualities, the explanation was obvious. Someone had already done experiments on him, turning him into something more than human. Krieger licked his lips hungrily. He just had to know what was done to this Mr. Morningstar, and he had to know how to recreate the same results. He could have an army of super humans in no time if all went well. Even better, super-human clones. It was going to be glorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for reading. Comments make me happy.


	4. An Angel Gets Its Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds the perfect pineapple. Everyone gets ready for the main event. Well... sort of...

Finding the perfect pineapple was a chore. The retired Lord of Hell made his way to the produce section as nonchalantly as possible, smiling politely at other shoppers while avoiding collisions with their carts, and dodging their sticky-fingered spawn. Eagerly, he approached the pineapples, but his hopes dropped when he saw how green they were. As he stood over the fruit, picking up and setting down various options thoughtfully, he heard someone approaching.

“You know, grocery stores aren’t the best way to get great produce.” A somewhat nasal southern accented voice offered. Lucifer turned around to see a vaguely familiar man standing next to him and looking at the pineapples thoughtfully. Blonde hair and a mustache, sharp eyes, and a hint of athleticism… where had he seen him before? “If you really want to get a great pineapple, you need to find a farmer who grows them. Not many do, but I happen to know a guy who has a farm in southern Cali and a stand at the local farmer’s market. I could take you, if you like.” The man offered. That was rather nice for a stranger to propose. “After the mission, of course.” He finished. Ah, yes, he was one of the lunes who worked at ISIS. 

“Codswallop. I can’t wait until after the mission.” Lucifer had no interest in sticking around any longer than necessary. He wanted to get back to his Detective as soon as possible. Which meant that if Adolf were to receive his overdue punishment, it would have to happen soon.

“The plane is leaving in less than an hour. I was sent to collect you.” The man reasoned… What was his name again? He wasn’t sure if they were ever properly introduced.

“They can leave without me. I have my own means of transportation.” Lucifer remarked casually. It was true. He could take a personal jet, or just use his wings. The wings would be fastest, but he hated using those bloody monstrous appendages. Still… if it bought him time to find the right pineapple…

“Oh, Mr. Fancy Man has his own wings?” The other man said approvingly. Lucifer stiffened. Had he said something about wings out loud? “I prefer flying private too.” Oh. Right.

“Will you be involved in this mission?” Lucifer asked curiously, turning to address him directly.

“No, apparently, according to Mrs. Archer, ‘_my_ kind are not considered _decent_ company to the Society.’” He made air quotes, and exaggeratedly sashayed his hips, using an over-the-top sing-song intonation, resulting in a level of sassiness which Lucifer wholly approved of.

“That holds no bearing on reality, the Society is just a bunch of wealthy wankers looking to get trolleyed while wearing pretty clothes… which half the time don’t even stay on… at least they don’t at Lux. And I assure you, more than one member fancies the same gender… or both. Anything goes.”

The other man perked up. “Really?”

“You can confirm this with the Manky Red-Tart. She’s a member.” 

“What? Why didn’t she tell us before we dragged you into this?” The other man fumed.

“My guess is she was too high on rubber cement.” Lucifer groused. 

“Yeah…” the other man agreed languidly. “She probably still is, too.” He added.

Lucifer smirked. “Regardless, we have plenty of time to hit up the farmer’s market.”

“How delightful.” The man hummed happily. “But first, I better let the others know what’s up.” 

The man retrieved his phone, dialing a number, but before the first ring finished, the Devil decided he wanted to tell them personally. He held out his hand expectantly, and said, “Let me.” The phone was promptly handed over.

After a couple rings, he heard Archer pick up, “Hello, Archer here.” 

“Ah, yes, this is Lucifer Morningstar,”

“Yeah, obviously, who else would it be?” Archer sneered. Lucifer felt a twinge of insult.

“I’m just calling you to…” He was abruptly cut off by the sound of screaming on the other line, followed by gun shots. “Mr. Archer? What’s happening!?” Lucifer bristled. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! Get down!” Archer shrieked desperately on the other end.

“Where are you?” Lucifer exclaimed, looking at the other man who was… rolling his eyes? Why was he rolling his eyes?

“LANA!!!!” He heard Archer’s voice wailing pitiably as more gun shots rang out. 

“Are you still at the headquarters???” Lucifer demanded of the phone, which was now dreadfully silent. He looked frantically at the man standing next to him… who was… laughing. Laughing? Why was he laughing? Did he not see that his colleagues were in danger???

“Hahaha!” Now Archer was laughing on the other line as well. Lucifer pulled back from the phone in disbelieving confusion. Was the nasty thing possessed? “Got you! These never get old. Anyway, leave a message if you want. I will probably ignore it.” The voice on the other line was filled with so much mirth, it was almost visible. Lucifer stared in dumbfounded amazement. 

After he heard the tell-tale ‘beep!’ he started to laugh. “You wicked little knob head. I would tell you to piss off, but that was too artfully done.” What a delightful troll this man, Archer was turning out to be. Maybe he wasn’t in such a hurry to get away from this group of lunes after all. After he disconnected and handed the phone back, he saw that the other man was nodding approvingly. “Don’t tell me you were in on this little prank.” Lucifer accused.

“Nah, Archer, he just does this… mostly to piss off his mother. I’m surprised you’re not mad.”

“Game recognizes game?” Lucifer offered with a shrug. “Now, I remember you promising me a trip to the farmer’s market. If they wonder where we are, they can bloody well call us themselves.”

The other man lit up. “Call it a date?” He offered, not at all shyly, extending his arm to Lucifer.

“Why yes, let’s.” Lucifer grinned wolfishly, taking his arm. “Shall we, Mr. Sassy Pants?” 

***

Lucifer cradled his pineapple as he made his way to the hotel. The tropical fruit in his arms was perfect. Big, spikey, aromatic, probably delicious. Now that he had found it, he almost thought it a shame it was going to be used in the way he intended. 

While he and Mr. Sassy Pants had been on their Farmer’s Market Date, he had gotten a call from a panicked head of ISIS, wanting to know where he was. He explained that he would be traveling separately, to which she sounded far more disappointed about than she had a right to be. She informed him that the society was doing brunch in the morning, so he and his partners were expected to join in on those festivities as well. Otherwise, the plan was the same. Lucifer had no intention to ‘stay out of the way,’ however, considering he had a vested interest in protecting the prime minister… he really wished they would tell him which one. The prime minister of Switzerland? India? Canada? The UK? New Zealand? All of them were members. Three still owed him favors. Lucifer couldn’t very well allow them to get killed or kidnapped without having collected first. Regardless, he had to make up for lost time, so he had begrudgingly used his wings. Who knew what sort of trouble these people would be getting up to without him? It was strange to feel like he was the responsible party. Now he knew how the Detective must feel. He did _not_ like it. 

As he made his way into the building toward the elevator, he got the feeling he was being watched again. Shamelessly, he flashed a winning smile into the void, letting whoever it was know that not only was he aware, but that he really didn’t mind. Perhaps it was Maze. He had updated his friends in LA earlier in the day, as promised, so no doubt, she was already in position.

Krieger eyed the subject from his perch, through the telescope, atop the roof of the adjacent building. When the man flashed a devastating smile directly at him through the windows and across the considerable distance, he pulled back in alarm. When next he looked, he saw the subject entering the elevator, pineapple in hand. What was it with this man and pineapples? No matter.

The mad scientist looked down at the briefcase he had brought with him, smiling maliciously. He had to be careful with this, it was soooo radioactive.

“What’s in the box?” Cheryl asked, as she lounged back in her chair, basking in evening sunlight.

“Plutonium, narcotics, anal probes, brain controlling microchips, robotic surgical equipment… you know, standard office supplies” Krieger commented nonchalantly. “Just in case I get a chance at Mr. Morningstar.”

“You mean, in case he needs medical attention since he refused health care?” Cyril asked acidly. 

“Also yes.”

“Anal probing sounds fun. Can I help?” Pam chimed in as she gulped down the rum in her home-made Spam cup. Everyone on the roof stared at her in disgust. “What, you pussies never seen a Spam-Rum-Shot before?” she badgered as she shoved the Spam shot ‘glass’ into her mouth and ostentatiously chomped down. A long – judging - silence followed, the only sound, her chewing. When she finished she asked again. “So, can I?”

Krieger shook his head before answering. “Why else would I have brought you?” As he said this, he felt a chill run down his spine. Was someone watching them?

Maze grinned from the shadows, tapping her fingers together excitedly. It was true. She told Lucifer he had to be mistaking when he had mentioned that Hitler had somehow gotten out of Hell and was now calling himself Krieger, but the evidence was hard to ignore. Hair was different, but then, if it wasn’t, everyone would recognize him, but it was so _obviously_ him. She shrugged. It wasn’t the most bizarre thing about this situation, though. What she did not understand was why these ISIS people were spying on themselves, and not in the prearranged professional way you would expect from a spy agency. But rather, more of a wannabe stalkerish way. 

Lucifer was with the two sexy agents in the penthouse of the hotel adjacent. Lucky Devil. But why were these four out here, playing at being clandestine? Peeping on them? Hoping to get a glimpse of a threesome, perhaps? If so, she couldn’t blame them. But something was off. Why had Adolf brought that briefcase, and what was in it? Was it part of some evil plot to get back at Lucifer for Hell? 

In the hotel, Lucifer Morningstar, Lana Kane, and Sterling Archer were getting ready for the next day’s activities… well, Lana was getting ready anyway. She noticed Lucifer lounging on the couch, tumbler of gin in hand, smiling contentedly as he sipped casually at it. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but every time she looked his way, he directed a bright smile at her, both suggestive and respectful... somehow. Archer could learn a thing or two from this man about facial expressions. Archer could learn a thing or two in general. For example: don’t get _plastered_ the night before a big mission. Archer was at the bar, as usual, enjoying copious amounts of alcohol. He kept looking over at Lucifer, hoping for him to join in, but so far, his invites were met with disinterest. Lucifer had promised Lana no more drinking competitions while they were on the mission. It looked like he was keeping his word. Still, Lana was getting more annoyed with Archer by the minute, as he was not taking the hint. It was bad enough he over-indulged, but to try and drag their _civilian_ colleague into it was too much!

“Knock it off, ARCHER.” Lana snapped at him as he took another gregarious gulp. “You’re going to end up with a hangover.”

Archer rolled his eyes at her. “As if.” He countered harshly. “Besides, I have a MORAL obligation to get drunk on every mission!” He declared proudly. Lana raised an eyebrow.

Lucifer glanced his way, curious. “How so?” 

Archer grinned at him. “Every time I get wasted on a mission, an angel gets its wings!” He announced with a great deal of amusement. Lana grumbled and shook her head. Lucifer sat up straight as a board.

An angel gets its wings? Is that why he kept getting his wings back? Wings he kept cutting off. Wings that kept growing back, forcing him to cut them off again. Over and over. It was decidedly un-fun. If Archer getting drunk on missions was in anyway related, he was simply not having it. He could almost hear Dr. Martin in his head, telling him that he was projecting again, but he brushed the imagined council aside with irritation. Quicker than either agent thought possible, the frustrated archangel was out of the couch and by Archer, bringing his hand up to knock the tumbler aside with gusto. The glass went flying across the room to crash against the wall, liquid spilling everywhere in the process. “That is quite enough of that, then.” 

Archer gawked. Lana gawked.

“What the shit, Lucifer!?” Lana exclaimed, looking at the mess.

“Oh, my _God!_ Dude! What is WRONG with you?” Archer demanded, eyes flaring up.

Lucifer glared back. “With me? What’s wrong with you? Why in Dad’s name would you force wings on an angel? Do you have any idea how painful it is to cut those infernal things off?” He demanded.

Archer stared for a minute, then he started to laugh, thinking it a clever joke. He still had the bottle in his other hand anyway, so no real harm done. Smirking, he brought the bottle up to his lips, only to find it knocked out of his hand as well. It crashed and landed next to the tumbler, booze flowing out of it and onto the carpeted floor.

“Did I not make myself clear the first time?” Lucifer snarled.

“Yeah,” Ray was saying. “You made it pretty clear earlier that you did NOT want me to come along on this mission, so why are we flying there now?”

Mallory Archer and Ray Gillette were seated across from one another in Mallory’s private jet. The lavish compartment and readily available drinks were meant to be a luxury; a treat. But now they just felt like a waste. Mallory had intended to make the trip feel like a date. She had planned to woo her beloved with sweets, drinks, and stimulating… conversation. But, no. He had other plans. She even went through the effort of sending Sterling and Lana ahead … what a fat load of good that did her! At first, she planned on staying behind to fume in private, but that simply wouldn’t do. Mallory Archer didn’t give up that easily, so here she was, dragging Gillette along for the ride. 

The head of ISIS glared at Ray, who was wearing a self-satisfied grin. He would have been more annoyed had it not been for the lovely outing he had had with Lucifer. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could look so innocent and yet so sinful at the same time, but this seemed to be his enigmatic date’s default setting, and Ray couldn’t get enough of it. Since Lucifer seemed to be having as much fun as he was, naturally, they made a day of it. He wondered if this outing was why Mrs. Archer was so enraged. 

Mallory rolled her eyes and took a shot of vodka. “Because I need someone to yell at, and you’re an easy target.” She jabbed, slamming her shot glass down on the seat’s arm rest.

Annoyance flooded his face and he puffed up indignantly. “You know…”

“He _is_ right though. You shouldn’t be drinking now.” Back at the apartment, Lana tried to calm things down. She still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Lucifer and Archer were in the middle of the living room. The night club owner had the world’s greatest spy in a head lock from behind, both arms held in a firm grip, pinned down and on his knees. Both were on their knees, actually, and it looked like it was a bit of a challenge for Lucifer to maintain his hold. Archer was stubbornly wriggling and squirming with determination. Lana hated to admit it, but it was a major turn on for her to see them like that. 

“You really shouldn’t drink on any missions.” She said, trying to keep her mind focused.

“I can drink if I want to!” the head of ISIS roared. Back on the plane, Mrs. Archer stared down her agent with a temper. How dare he try to tell her to slow down? “After all,” She added indignantly. “It’s the only thing I seem to have any authority over these days.” 

Ray’s face twisted into an unfriendly grin. “What, you finally realized that Archer never does what he’s told?” 

Mallory blanched. “What!? Sterling? No, this isn’t about Sterling, this is about Lucifer!”

“…Morningstar? Why are we spying on him, specifically?” Back on the roof, Cyril was scratching his head. He was used to sneaking around to keep an eye on Lana and Archer, but turning the obviously immoral behavior on a civilian without healthcare was just little _too_ wrong.

Cheryl rolled her eyes at him. “Because he’s a cyborg! Duh!” 

Krieger looked back at them and smiled maliciously, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “Actually, no, he isn’t. I already tested that theory. Not only do metal detectors not respond to him, but upon closer inspection, his surprisingly resilient skin is completely organic.” He informed them gleefully.

Pam leaned on the wall next to Krieger and grinned as well. “That, and he’s hot! I’m just here because I’m hoping for a threesome between Lana Archer and him.” She licked her lips hungrily.

“We are not doing a threesome!” Lana exclaimed, taken aback.

Archer and Lucifer were still in the middle of the room, now, with Lucifer pinning the other man down while kneeling over him, holding his squirming arms with a firm grip on each wrist. Looking up at her, Lucifer made a pout, which was strangely adorable considering the position he was currently in. He looked genuinely put out.

“Really? Did I somehow misread you? I could have sworn you were looking at us with desire.” He actually sounded confused, as if he wasn’t used to being turned down… ever.

Lana’s face turned bright red and she looked away, turning her back on them both. Damn it, is it that obvious? She thought. “No! I mean, Yes! No, I’m not interested. Noop! Not. At. All.” She stammered, looking at her hands, which were twisting around her fingers nervously.

Upon hearing this, Archer stopped trying to Houdini out of the hold for a moment and looked up, to see Lana’s back turned to them. “She totally wants it!” He declared triumphantly, then turning to look back at the all-too-close face of the man holding him down, he frowned. “But I’m not interested. Not if I can’t get drunk.”

“Well, that’s just tough then, isn’t it?” Mallory said in a falsely nurturing tone, patting her agent on the cheek contemptuously. “Because this is _my_ alcohol, and I’m going to need all of it, so you get to stay dry.” She barked.

Ray glared at her. “That is just not fair!” He accused, crossing his arms.

Mallory took another gulp, and proceeded to throw herself head-long into a rant. “Not fair? Not fair??? I’ll tell you what’s not fair! I met him first, I get dibs! But noooo! As soon as I brought him in, we haven’t had a single moment alone! It’s almost like he is avoiding me, which is absurd, because why would he?” Ray was about to say something in response to that, but then he saw a plotting look sweep over her inebriated face. “But I do have a plan to fix all that, and you are going to help me, Gillette.” She said, sounding far too much like a cartoon super villain talking about world domination.

Ray just shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m not going to help you. I happen to like him, and if he is avoiding you, that’s his choice.”

Mallory raised a challenging eyebrow at her employee. “Oh, but I think you will. That is, of course, if you want to get paid.” She sneered.

“But _I’m_ not getting paid. So _technically_, I’m not on the clock, as it were, so you’ve nothing to fret over.” Lucifer offered, trying to be persuasive. Twice, now, Archer had managed to get free, only to be grappled again. The man really wanted his drink, and his attempts were rather impressive. Lucifer couldn’t blame him, but he still didn’t want to risk it. Unsurprisingly, the wrestling shifted from a fervent struggle to more of a playful tumble. But in spite of their obvious _wanting_, both agents were acting like they weren’t interested. This only confused the devilish playboy club owner further.

“What do you mean, you’re not getting paid?” Lana demanded.

“Yeah, my mother must be loving that,” Archer laughed, giving another jerk to see if he could loosen the man’s grip on his arms. It didn’t work. Yet.

“I’ve no interest in paperwork.” Lucifer replied, as if that made everything make sense. It didn’t. He twisted to maintain his hold as Archer twisted to break free again.

“So you would rather avoid paperwork than get paid?” Lana balked, arms in the air.

“Well, I have more than enough money as it is, and that’s not why I’m here anyway.”

“Really?” Archer asked, ceasing in his wiggling for a moment. “Why are you here then?”

“To have fun.” He replied happily. “So far, it has been quite an experience.”

Lana sighed, hand drifting to her head to rub at her temples. “That actually explains a lot.” 

“That explains nothing.” Cyril grumped back on the roof.

Krieger just smirked, tisking a little at him. “Oh, you don’t have to understand. All you need to know is that I’m looking at long term gains here, and if you want in on the profits, you have to do what I say.” He explained.

Back in the shadows, not too far away, the demoness watched and listened with disbelief. Lucifer was right, these people really were insane, Maze thought, as she stroked her blades. She had to admit, she liked it. It reminded her of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, my favorite chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did writing it. Cheers.


	5. Places Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyril makes a discovery, Lucifer charms people, Lana tries to keep her cool, and Archer tries to imitate Luci. Maze calls Ella.

The ballroom was quiet. Deafeningly so. Chandeliers and crystal sculptures in place, silently waiting for the gala taking place later in the day. Cyril grumbled. He didn’t want to be here. He felt slimy helping Krieger out but still, here he was, acting as lookout. Being a pushover. He supposed that it wasn’t so bad, after all, there was a real, actual threat, and even if it was Krieger’s idea, at least this way, he could also watch out for any bad guys who might make their way in. Eager to prove himself, he had shown up an hour earlier than instructed, fully expecting to find the devious man still there, but the place was empty. Suspicious, he tried to call Lana and the others, but their phones were all silenced. Maybe they were joining the _Beau Monde Society_ for brunch already? He didn’t know, because no one told him anything, and since he wasn’t actually supposed to be part of the operation, he had not been given access to their com links. It was infuriating. Not being able to check up on Lana, especially when she was on a mission with two disgustingly attractive flirty men was maddening. 

Trying not to think about it, he recalled the discussion from the night before. “I can’t be there myself once things get started, because I’ll be in my van, monitoring for suspicious activity from my spy cams at the brunch. All you have to do is step in for me and make sure that the device I installed in the central chandelier is not tampered with until Pam and Cheryl arrive to take over.” Krieger had explained. This was his job. He hated it, and he wondered to himself if he had been put here to be kept out of the way. He knew everyone believed he couldn’t be trusted with even the simplest task.

He wondered about the mysterious device. Cyril had no idea what it was, and he wasn’t sure if he believed Krieger when he said it was just music and flashing lights. Explosives and lasers seemed more likely. But he had promised… his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft feet from the other room. Concerned, he drew his gun and carefully advanced. He leaned against the wall before bursting into the dressing room. It was empty. But he could hear noises coming from the closet. As he advanced, the door abruptly swung open to reveal a man dressed all in black, ski mask in place. Wild eyes looked at him in surprise.

“Hands in the air!” Cyril shouted, pointing his gun in the general direction of the intruder. Had he stumbled onto the threat all on his own? He couldn’t wait to rub this in everyone’s faces. He couldn’t wait to tell Lana about it. She would be so impressed by him being the hero, maybe then she would even take him back. Screw Krieger and his ridiculous contraption. The man in the mask made a mad dash for the hallway, completely ignoring Cyril’s command. The agent prepared to fire, but then something caught his eye. Sitting in the closet, tucked securely into a corner, was a rather large and imposing looking bomb.

Fumbling for a moment, he considered going after the man, only to panic and turn toward the bomb instead. He rushed over to see if he could find an off switch. There was none. Dread started to sink in. He tried to move it, and found it bolted down. Then he remembered the man who had set it up. The man! He needed to find him! He would know how to disarm it! But when he looked back, the fiend had already given him the slip. “Damn it, they will never let me live this down.” Cyril declared as he phoned Krieger to tell him to get his butt in here and disarm it. The line was busy. Great. Now he would have to try and fix this on his own. 

Heart racing, and hands shaking, he dashed out of the dressing room, and sprinted through the ballroom. He had to tell Lana! He desperately hoped she was still in the hotel, not sure what he would do otherwise. As he frantically ran through his options, making his way down the stairs to the front entrance, he collided head long into Mallory Archer. She was supposed to be back at headquarters, wasn’t she?

“What are you doing here, you bumbling baboon?” The older woman barked at him as she regained her composure.

“Me?” Cyril exclaimed. “What are _you_ doing here?” 

“Protecting my investment.” She replied vaguely. 

“She wants to try to get Mr. Morningstar alone with her.” Ray explained, coming up from behind, admiring his freshly manicured nails. Cyril gaped at him. He thought Ray had been told to stay back at headquarters as well. Was Cyril really the only one Mallory had not intended on employing for this? Then he remembered the bomb and he put his pride aside. Regardless of why they were here, it was a good thing.

“No one’s going to be getting with anyone when we all blow up!” Cyril cried.

“Oh?” the head of ISIS looked at her useless employee with mild disinterest.

“There’s a bomb upstairs in the closet, and I have no idea how to disarm it.” He practically wailed as he pointed up the stairs.

“Really?” Mallory perked up with genuine interest now. “Well, don’t just stand there like an idiot, show us!” She commanded.

Cyril blushed with shame as he spun on his heels and led the two up. They seemed awfully calm considering the circumstances, but then, Mallory never looked flustered, and Ray only seemed to get upset when he felt insulted. He led them to the closet and opened the door. There it was, sitting pretty.

Ray walked up to it to inspect it more closely, looking it over from every angle. “Looks like it has no timer. I would say it is set to go off with a trigger mechanism. I could disarm this easily enough… for that matter, so could Krieger, why didn’t you call him?” He looked at Cyril patiently, probably the only person who didn’t always assume he was incompetent.

“I did.” Cyril explained. “The line was busy, and I may have panicked.”

Mallory looked at the bomb and smiled wickedly. She started to drum her fingers together slowly. “Don’t touch anything, you Puff. I have an idea.” Mallory ordered just as Ray was about to get to work on disarming it. “Yes, I think this will work out quite nicely.” She plotted. “Quite nicely, indeed.” Her smile grew more conniving as she spoke. Then she looked at Cyril curtly, thinking things over. “But I don’t need you here. Why don’t you make yourself useful and keep lookout by the brunch. See if you can spot any explosives being set up there as well.” She handed him an address and waved him of. Cyril beamed, glad he was being useful, but as he started to leave, he heard her call over her shoulder, “But you are to stay out of sight, monitor the outer part of the building only. I’ve already got agents on the inside, and I don’t need you bungling things up.” Cyril sighed. Why did he feel like she was just getting rid of him again?

***

“Now, now, my dear man.” Lucifer purred at the guard. “What harm is there in letting me have two plus ones, just this one little time?” He smiled, sliding his hand along the man’s broad shoulder teasingly.

“I… want… I want to let you bring them…” The man stammered, completely charmed by Lucifer’s presence. “But we have rules…. This is… an exclusive…”

Lana knew this would happen. She was already getting ready to tell Archer to just watch their back from out here when Lucifer looked into the guard’s eyes with a strange focus she had not seen before. “There must be something I can do for you in return.” He breathed. “Tell me, what is it you truly desire?” The man got a glassy-eyed look on his face, and his posture relaxed. Archer took notice, suddenly intrigued by their coworker’s unexpected talent. How did he do that?

“I… I… I want…” The man started tentatively, pausing in confusion.

“Yes? What naughty little sinful desire have you been denying yourself? What is it? You can tell me.” Lucifer intensified his focus. 

The man looked dreamily at Lucifer. “I want to know what it feels like to be one of them.” He blurted out, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Envy, is it?” Lucifer looked a little sorry for him. “Such a miserable feeling. My least favorite sin.” He made a pseudo pouty face with that statement. 

“Tell me about it.” The man sighed, opening up. Lana was impressed. Maybe he had been a spy after all. Where else would he have learned to do something like that? He was full of surprises. The guard continued, no longer sounding hypnotized, and more like he had to explain himself. “I’ve been doing this for five years, getting paid far too little for the bullshit I have to put up with. They lord over me, having the time of their lives. And they expect me to be discrete. While I’m treated like yesterday’s garbage, and I never get to enjoy any of it. The ladies are so sexy… some of them are real freaks, you know. And I have to know what they do day in and day out, and I never get any tail at all. It drives me crazy.”

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Lucifer fixed an understanding expression on his face, then smiled, stepping back to reach into his jacket pocket to pull out a card. “I may not be able to get you in on the society’s entertainment today, but it hardly matters. You know I run Lux, right?” He handed the man a card.

“Of course, Lux is hard to forget.” He stated, taking the card curiously, but not yet pocketing it.

“Make your way there, and I will see to it that you are treated like royalty, free of charge. One time offer.” He grinned. The man got a hungry look in his eye as he held up the card. But he was still not convinced. Lucifer laid it on thick. “All the fine drinks and pleasurable company your heart desires, as long as they are willing, that is, for one full night. You can even use my penthouse, and who knows, I may join you. I know you would just _love_ the Brittney’s.” The man swallowed hard. He had seen the kinds of women who flocked to Morningstar. He couldn’t help himself, he was getting excited just thinking about it. 

After only a moment, he put the card away, and looked around secretively, “fine, but we did _not _have this conversation.”

“Of course, discretion is the name of the game, after all, I’m not just here for pleasure. I’m acting as a spy. Top secret. They wouldn’t have brought me in if I couldn’t keep quiet.” He chirped happily, leading the other two in. 

Lana’s mouth fell open. Did he just tell the guard that he was a spy? He was as bad as Archer. “Mr. Morningstar?” She snapped. He looked at her with wide innocent eyes, like he couldn’t understand why she was mad at him, but before she could explain, she heard Archer following up with his usual bit.

“Yeah, but he’s only temporary. I’m the real deal.” He boasted proudly. “Sterling Archer, the Greatest Secret Agent in the World.” He preened. Lana’s hand went to her head. This was a disaster, and they hadn’t even started brunch yet!

The guard grinned, looking the three over. “Yeah, have fun with the role play. See you around, ‘agents.’” He made air quotes around the word, ‘agents’ as he grinned at them and waved pleasantly before he turned his attention back to more arriving guests.

“What. Just. Happened?” Lana blurted in shock. That is when she felt Lucifer’s arm around her back resting comfortably on her shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. No one _ever_ believes me.” He said simply as if that was an explanation. Lana flushed at his touch, the memory of the night before rushing back to her.

“Right?” Archer said with a too-big grin on his face. “Either they think we’re full of it, or they’re shooting at us.” He put his arm around Lana’s back as well, resting his hand on her hip comfortably. This was getting awkward.

She removed herself from both men’s hold, and walked ahead a little, taking controlled, focused breaths to regain her composure and take charge of the situation. “Fine, whatever, but you really need to stop advertising…” She couldn’t finish because right then, they entered the room, where the members of high society were gossiping and sipping at coffee and tea, all dressed to the nines, and it was at that moment, her new coworker announced their arrival.

“Greetings, everyone.” He waved charmingly, and the entire room had their eyes on him. “Let’s make this easy, shall we? I’m here as a spy today, because it seems that someone made a threat against the prime minister.” He advanced toward the middle of the room.

Lana knew that he was there to be a distraction, but really, this was NOT what they had in mind. She started to say something, but a well-dressed familiar looking read head cut her off. “Which one?” She sang in that familiar fake-fancy-person voice of hers. Cheryl? 

“Yeah, how’r you ‘sposed to protect someone if ya don’t know who you’re protectin’?” Pam, sitting next to her blurted out. Lana wanted to strangle them both… okay, no, just Pam. Cheryl liked being choked. Maybe just shoot her?

Archer, already holding a martini – somehow - grinned and chimed in. “It’s a secret.” He took a sip, casually eyeballing the room. Lana noticed that everyone in the place seemed to be more amused than anything. Did they all just think this was role playing as well?

“Ah,” A dignified looking gentleman said from a table near the center. “Mr. Morningstar, have you come to be my protector today?” He smiled mischievously at her companion.

Lucifer advanced toward him, slinky and graceful as a cat. “It would seem so. You, and the others. Just consider me your very own personal guardian Devil for the day.” He slid into the seat next to the man, who seemed far too pleased by the attention. Lana was floored. How did he do that? To everyone? Every time? Archer seemed to be taking notes. God, she did NOT need this.

“A spy, but still the Devil, you’ve quite an imagination,” the man said, offering his ‘protector’ a mug, which he gracefully accepted.

“You’ve no idea.” Lucifer grinned sinfully. Then looking around, he motioned with his hand in the universal come hither gesture. “So would all the prime ministers here today come join me? I assure you, it will be very much worth your while.” He leaned back and looked seductively across the room. 

It worked. Somehow, it worked. As the various government officials made their way over to be entertained by the Devil agent beckoning them, Archer leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’m guessing it’s the accent. I need to figure out how to sound Welsh, because he has some serious game with that voice of his.” Could that be it? Lana wasn’t sure.

“Whatever. It worked, so let’s just start doing what we came here for.” He nodded and headed straight for the bar. 

“I intend to.” He said, as the bartender poured him another drink. Lana rolled her eyes and made her way over to the table where Pam and Cheryl were sitting.

“What are you two doing here?” Lana demanded in a hushed voice when she reached them.

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “I was invited, because unlike you, I’m actually important!” Of course, Lana breathed out in exasperation.

“And I’m her plus one!” Pam declared before she savagely tore into her waffles. “Hot damn! These are almost as good as Dad’s Scrotchi!” Pam elated, ogling her plate.

“Ooooh, what is a Scrotchi?” Cheryl inquired in her fake fancy voice. Lana didn’t want to hear the answer, but it came anyway.

“Fam’ly recipe. They’re sorta’ like mochi, but savory. Salty, greasy and cream filled. Kinda’ ugly though.” Both Lana and Cheryl looked mildly appalled. Cheryl recovered quickly though, as she started a monologue about eating snails, fish eggs, and rocky mountain oysters.

Lana took a moment to silently count backward from ten to calm herself down… and to quiet the gag reflex. Then she addressed the two in front of her in a calm and commanding tone. “First of all, gross. Secondly, fine, whatever. Just… if you’re here, make yourself useful, and try to keep your eyes out for anything suspicious.”

“But I’m already keeping an eye on Lucifer.” Cheryl whined.

‘What?” Lana demanded, grabbing her by her expensive necklace and pulling her closer.

“Because I’m…” she didn’t finish what she was about to say as she realized that what Lana was doing was very close to a choking and she shuddered happily, causing Lana to let go. Repulsed. Rolling her eyes, she adjusted her sleek black dress, and sauntered off, trying to clear her head. Why? Why couldn’t she go on one - just one - mission when things did not go completely sideways on her? Just one? 

Glancing up at Archer, she noticed him getting close to an attractive blonde woman, his… probably fourth drink in hand. He leaned into the woman suggestively, and in his best Welsh accent, he parroted what he had heard Lucifer say earlier, “Tell me, my darling… what is it you truly desire?” The woman slapped him across the face, leaving a clear hand print and stomping off in disgust. Archer rubbed his cheek and contemplated the outcome for a minute, clearly confused. “Fine, I guess it isn’t just the accent.” He muttered frustrated.

From the other end of the room, Thomas Greene watched as the famous Sterling Archer made his way through the crowd, failing at his attempts to womanize at every turn. This was an interesting turn of events. He would have known that man anywhere, even without the help of his favorite devilish club owner friend drawing so much attention to him and his plus ones. He seriously doubted Mr. Morningstar knew his companions were actually spies; the man was too trusting. But Thomas was no fool. He knew he was being targeted, but the arrival of ISIS on the scene gave him an idea.

***

“Yo! Ella!” Greeted Mazikeen Smith, bounty hunter by day and awesome sexy bad ass demoness by… day… whatever…

“Sup girl!” came the almost infuriatingly joyous reply from the forensics scientist. Maze hated that she liked this up-beat human so damned much.

“I need you here. Stat.” She said.

Ella paused on the other line. “Is this about that thing Lucifer was contracted out for?” She asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah, there is a bomb in the building, and I need you to disarm it.” Maze replied as if she was asking for a cup of sugar.

Ella, for her part, didn’t freak out too much. “Oooooookay? A bomb? Shouldn’t we call the bomb squad in then?” She suggested. Maze grumbled under her breath.

“No. Just you.”

Another pause. “Why? I mean, I’m tote’s flattered that you trust me enough to…”

“That’s why. I trust you. I know you’ve got Lucifer’s back, no matter what.” Maze cut her off.

Ella replied without missing a beat. “Awe! I love you too, Maze!” Maze shook her head. She did NOT say anything about loving anyone. “But I never diffused a bomb, and…”

Maze took a breath and tried again. “I don’t trust the bomb squad, they don’t care. I trust you. I know you can figure it out. You’re smart and know science and stuff. Let me send you a pic.” With that, an image of the bomb she had taken a picture of earlier was off to Ella’s phone.

Another pause. “Ummm… okay, let me just….” There was a sound of typing on the other end. Maze was getting impatient.

“Are you going to help me or not?” She snapped.

Ella on the other line was clearly taken aback by this, because she stammered. “I… it’s just… Lucifer got us involved because he didn’t think those ISIS people were professional enough…” Now she was snickering. “Sorry, I just can’t even. _Lucifer_ thinks… someone else is… not professional.” She was having difficulty finishing her thought through the giggles.

Maze grinned in agreement. Even in Hell, he didn’t always take his job seriously. “Right? But really, I just need you here, at least so I don’t accidently blow us up when I unhinge it and take it out.” Maze tried to sound persuasive. She really didn’t want to bring too many unknowns into this… What if Lucifer slipped up, revealing himself with those big damn fluffy white wings he hated so much? What if someone shot him and his not being dead gave him away? What if… 

Ella was typing again, and Maze waited as she heard her muttering to herself. “Looks custom made. Don’t think it’s an explosive in there, the container seems off…” More typing. After a minute, she replied. “Okay, I’m on my way, but I’ve got the bomb squad on standby.”

Maze grumbled again. They could handle it, but if it made Ella feel better, she decided to let it go. For now. She still didn’t want anyone else involved. “Fine, just get here.”

“Already in town, girl!” Ella announced happily. “Got here last night, after Luce called in to update us. Give me the address and I’ll meet you!” 

Maze started to answer when she noticed another person approaching the closet, carrying something that looked suspiciously like an identical bomb. What the Hell? She heard Ella on the other line asking her if she was still there, and if everything was okay. Maze made herself scarce, whispering for Ella to stand by, and watched as the man clad in black slid the door to the closet open and reached in to where the first bomb was, then started to tinker with it. What was he playing at? After the man left, with the original bomb in his arms and the new one in position, Maze spoke up again. “Huh, better make that two bombs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... who remembers Thomas Greene from chapter one?
> 
> This chapter was difficult to write, hope you like it.


	6. Wingman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the gala now, everything is falling into place.

The bomb had no business being this clunky and ungainly. The man carrying it huffed with excretion. The replacement had already been put into position a while ago, but this one was quite a bit heavier and the members of the society were already filing into the ballroom below. Music was starting to swell and the sound of delighted chatter could be heard. He made his way into the room, pushing open the door to the upstairs king’s suite with his butt, all the while thanking God that no one was watching. With a frustrated heave, he set the thing down in the walk-in closet and he closed the door. All done. Now he just had to wait, and stay out of the way until then. He really didn’t like any of this unnecessary sneaking around, but he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. Sighing heavily, he went to the kitchenette and found the bar. 

Mazikeen smirked from the hallway as she casually sauntered passed the still partially open door to the suite, utterly and completely undetected by the stupid human within. The poor bastard had no idea how much of a riot watching him had been. She had watched as he worked on the original bomb with professionalism. It looked like he had disabled it before installing the replacement. She enjoyed the view while he struggled to carry the original away. She was delighted by every stumble, every curse, and every crash. She nearly died when he came to the elevator to see it was out of order. It wasn’t. She put the sign there herself. She watched him go to the stairs in the back of the building, and she heard him drop it, and panic… repeatedly. It had taken most of the day for him to get it to where he had planned on stashing it, and that had given her more than enough time to look over the duplicate and forward the info over to Ella on the phone. 

***

Music drifted through the ballroom as the band played from the stage. Socialites made their way from the bar to the dance floor or over to the tables set artfully off to the side where they would mingle and flirt. Lana was making her way through the crowd, chatting up anyone she could, charming them with the occasional sultry look through thick long lashes and a playful caresses upon their arms or chest. Lucifer was by the bar. Each of the prime ministers lounging around him, enjoying his company, as well as that of all the lovely ladies who seemed to flock to him everywhere he went. Pam was at the tables, stuffing her face, and Cheryl was sneaking around, trying to get closer to Lucifer. She was obviously trying to look like she wasn’t up to anything, which, of course, just made her look that much more suspicious. Archer was drinking. And trying on various attempts at impersonating his new co-worker’s ‘Lucifer-ness’ as he was now calling it. So far, he had had little success, but this had never stopped him before. Things, after all, just always seemed to work out for him. So without any hesitation, he plowed ahead, nary a care in the world. 

Archer was going to figure this out. Sipping languidly at a drink, he sauntered over to a particularly fetching heiress with brunette hair fashioned in a stylish up-do and ruby earrings matching a deviously low cut crimson gown. She smiled beatifically at him, clearly liking what she saw. “Hello, my darling.” Archer purred. He had dropped the accent, now, as it had been ineffective, but not the mannerisms. “Call me Randy,” He took her hand gracefully. “What might your name be?” He inquired as he kissed her hand, inspiring a slight blush upon her cheeks. 

“Anastasia.” She smiled, letting his kiss linger. Archer noticed Lana sending a sharp glare his way. Clearly, she had no appreciation for his methods. She could look for the-would be assailants her way, he would do it his way… with a devilish flare. He leaned in with a flourish.

He hated to admit how much Lucifer had grown on him, considering he had not ruled out the possibility of him being a cyborg yet. Archer was fascinated by his ability to charm, well, anyone really, and mimicking his mannerisms finally seemed to be paying off. Perhaps he had figured it out? Archer grinned up at the woman with a lecherous gleam and looked deep into her hazelnut eyes with intent. “Tell me, Anastasia, what is it you truly desire?”

Anastasia straightened up at that, taken by surprise, and a little put off. “What? That’s it? No playful banter, no sultry small talk? Right to asking me about my fetishes?” She snatched her hand away, glaring at him. “And for a minute, I thought you were a gentleman.” She snapped.

Archer sighed. This was the eighth failed attempt of the day, and it was starting to get frustrating, but he was not about to give up, so he tried again. “Oh, come on! I can be a gentleman, if that’s what you’re into.” This earned him a slap. Again. She glared with contempt at him before she whirled around and stalked off, only to be stopped in her tracks by Lucifer himself, with just a glance in her direction. She faltered and looked at him desirously. Archer was too impressed to be jealous. He watched in amazement as she made her way toward him.

“Is something bothering you, my dear?” The self-proclaimed devil inquired politely. She blushed a bit. Was he even trying??? Archer wondered at the man’s legendary chick-magnetism.

“There is, actually. One of your plus ones was being rather crude with me.” She said, sliding up to him. “Maybe you want to make it up to me?” Archer came closer as she tried to trace her hand along Lucifer’s arm. Lucifer leaned back casually removing her hand and chuckled.

The night club owner offered Archer a knowing grin, then turned his attentions back to the woman in front of him. “You will forgive him, I hope. Grace is not his virtue.” Then smiling suggestively, he added, “but he _does _have other merits. Positively deadly, I assure you.” The lady flashed a shy smile.

“Really? Would you have any first-hand experience in this?” She asked, turning to glance back at Archer.

“Top secret, I’m afraid.” Lucifer replied. “It isn’t proper to discuss spy operations, I’m told.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re a spy today.” She grinned playfully at him, obviously enjoying where the conversation was going now.

“Is that something you desire?” Lucifer looked into her eyes. He was doing it again. 

Her expression relaxed a bit. “I desire a thrilling night. Something I will never forget.” She said, to which Archer, who was now right next to her again, had to chime in.

“Looking for a bit of danger? Intrigue? I happen to be the greatest secret agent in the world,” he boasted proudly.

Anastasia seemed to be reconsidering now, as she eyed him up and down. “Are you now?” She crooned. He noticed that Lucifer was no longer attending to the woman, and was back to entertaining his own personal flock of admirers. Best. Wingman. Ever. Archer decided. Wingman! He snickered to himself, already deciding he would have to share that one with Lana. Focusing his attention on the stunning woman in front of him, he decided to just be himself, telling her all about his past heroisms. She seemed to enjoy the stories very much.

From the other end of the ballroom, Lana fumed. Those two were incorrigible. Did either of them ever stop thinking about sex? Not like it was anything new for her to be the only one actually working, but seriously. Archer was just using this as an opportunity to hit on women, and Lucifer… well, at least he was keeping the targeted politicians close, but still. Helping Archer like _this_ was just not professional. They were supposed to be finding the terrorists who were threatening—who? It just occurred to Lana that Mallory had never even mentioned which prime minister they were trying to protect. Pulling herself away from the crowd, she decided to double check. Opening her com link, she tried Krieger first.

“Hey, Krieger, did you catch which prime minster is in danger?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“No, I don’t believe Mrs. Archer ever told us.” Krieger’s tinny voice replied through the ear buds.

“Great. I suppose I can try calling her.” Lana huffed.

“Don’t bother, she’s not answering her phone. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure everything will make sense soon enough.” Lana had her doubts. Usually, by the time things started to make sense, it was too late to do anything about it.

Sashaying through the socialites, she made her way over to Cheryl, who was done stalking through the crowd, and Pam, who was, as usual, stuffing her face. She was pretty sure neither of them knew, but it was worth an ask. Noticing her approach, both stopped mid-conversation to look at her. 

“Hey, yeah, did either of you catch which prime minister we are supposed to be protecting?” Lana tried to sound unconcerned, but she really wasn’t.

Pam shrugged. “Beat’s me.” 

Cheryl, however nodded knowingly. “It was an anonymous tip. Guy had a voice modulator when he made the call, sounded like Darth Vader… or a robot. All he said was that the prime minister was being threatened, and that the attack would happen today, at the gala.”

“Great.” Lana sighed, suddenly wondering if it was a prank call. Had they really gone through all this trouble for something so unsubstantiated? 

“Actually, I think he totally was a robot, and this whole thing with the prime minister is just the beginning. There are so many robots and cyborgs out there now, just waiting to make their plans a reality.” Cheryl continued, starting to spiral into her own delusions. 

“Taking over the world?” Pam suggested.

“Yes! With weaponized pineapples!” Cheryl declared resolutely. “And Lucifer is in on it, too.”

Lana looked at her skeptically. “In what way?”

“Since he’s a cyborg too, _obviously! _ Didn’t you notice the pineapple he brought with him? See how he has totally brainwashed everyone in the room? They all want to bone him, and when they do, he is going to put his alien seed into them, and then the alien cyborg scum will explode from our chests, and force us to do their bidding!” The crazy heiress smiled wistfully at this supposed future. 

“Oooookaaaaay.” Lana started to walk away, but then Cheryl grabbed her arm eagerly.

“Only a handful of people will remain free, and we will launch a counter attack, sending in our super-secret ninja squad to destroy all the alien mind-controlling pineapples. Krieger will try to study the alien cyborgs so he can learn their weaknesses but they will abduct him and leave him marooned on a deserted planet. Archer is going to fight to the death with their deadliest warrior, but Lucifer will get in the way, because he is their King, and in the end, I will be his Queen!” She sighed happily. Then as an afterthought, she added, “At least, that’s what the old gypsy woman said.”

Lana shook her head and started to walk away. That woman was getting crazier every day. But something about her rant struck a note. Looking over at Lucifer, she had to admit, it almost _did _seem like he had brainwashed them. He couldn’t be in on it… whatever it was… could he? Hesitantly, she turned back to her coworkers. “I’m pretty sure none of that is going to happen, but you did make a good point.” Lana conceded. “There is certainly something a little off about him.”

“That’s why Krieger sent us here.” Pam offered happily chomping into her roasted quail.

“I’m sorry, Krieger, what?” Lana snapped.

Pam grinned back. “I think he is still planning on trying to drug him so he can do experiments on him.” She explained, oblivious, as always, to her slip-up.

Lana felt the anger building up again. No. Just no. He was quirky, yes. Seemed to have some odd talents, for sure. Walking temptation, absolutely! But this was nonsense. “He’s planning on doing _what?_” Her voice had an edge to it. Pam, for her part, clamped her mouth shut with a click, realizing that once again, she had said too much. Shaking her head, Lana stomped off toward Archer, contacting Krieger on her way over.

“Krieger, I swear to you, if you lay one hand on our CIVILIAN consultant, I will shove his pineapple up your ass and castrate you!” She menaced as she made her way onto the dance floor.

She could hear Krieger choking for a minute on the other end. “What! I would never…”

“Pam talked.” 

Lana danced around couples moving gracefully with the music. After a pause, she heard him sigh through the receiver. “Fine. I promise to lay off.” Lana didn’t believe him for a minute. Krieger never laid off… ever. But at least now he knew he had been caught, she thought as she exited the dance floor and stepped up to the bar, where Archer was still smooth talking the same fetching woman Lucifer had set him up with earlier.

As soon as she reached him, she yanked him away from the vixen. She may have been a bit rough with him, but that was his own fault for flirting.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, shooting the subject of his attention an apologetic look.

“We have a situation.” Lana hissed. Archer’s face became almost serious.

“Find the bad guys?” He guessed.

“Krieger.”

“He’s the bad guys?” Archer asked, with a baffled expression.

“No… yes… not like that. Krieger is planning on using this mission to try to abduct Mr. Morningstar or something so he can experiment on him.” She explained in harsh whispered tones. She watched as Archer slowly processed what she said.

“Not cool.” He finally blurted out. “No playing operation with my _wingman._” Then he grinned. “Get it? Because he said he has wings? So he’s my… wingman?” Lana found her face in her palm again as she sighed. “Oh, come on, that was a good one.” Archer pouted. Lana just stared daggers at him, letting the silence speak for her. Archer was unfazed. “Lana.” No response. “Lana!” Still nothing. “Lana!!” Noop! She wasn’t falling for it. _“Lana!!”_ She turned away. “LAAAANAAAA!!!”

“WHAT?!?!” She roared.

“Get it? Wingman!”

“Arrrg! I GET it, just…” she took a deep breath before continuing, “try to keep an eye on him, would you?” Lana asked, exasperated. “On Lucifer, that is.”

“You mean my wingman.”

“Whatever.”

“What about tracking down the terrorists?” Archer demanded.

Lana looked at him with her _‘really?’_ expression. “Were you even looking? Did you find them in that woman’s cleavage?” she gestured over toward Anastasia indignantly. 

Now it was Archer’s turn to role his eyes. “No, Lana, they are not in her cleavage. They wouldn’t even fit down there.” He explained in a frustrated tone. “For your information, I actually found out a lot from Anastasia.”

Lana raised her eyebrow. “Like what? Favorite positions, food fetishes maybe?”

“Yes, but I figured out why the prime minister is being targeted today. It’s because they don’t have their usual security when meeting with the_ Beau Monde Society._ Club’s too exclusive for secret service to be admitted in. Society has their own security… supposedly. Can you believe how pompous that is? Who even does that? I also found out that they all hate each other, so odds are one prime minister is probably targeting another. Apparently, the prime minister of India and the prime minister of the UK have been at it for years, fighting over everything from lovers to politics. Anastasia said that the guy from India has been planning on something he called ‘payback’ over the last few months, though she doesn’t know exactly what it is he has planned.” He smiled triumphantly. 

“That—might actually be useful…” Lana realized. “What, is she one of those lovers they fought over?” She said glancing at the woman sipping her cosmopolitan and flashing flirty eyes at Archer. 

“Obviously.” Archer grinned triumphantly. Lana fidgeted a bit then nodded resolutely.

“Fine, see what else you can get from her, but try to stay close to Mr. Morningstar too. Don’t leave the room without him. I’ll look in on this lead.” She ordered. 

Archer frowned. “Who died and made you the boss of everything?”

“Would you rather I talked to her and kept close to your new BFF while you investigate the lead?” She challenged.

Archer glared. “No, Lana. I will talk to Anastasia and hang out with the Devil over there, charming the pants off of everyone. Because. I. Want to. Not because you said so. Because I want to.” He shot back haughty.

“Okay, whatever.” Lana grumbled, just glad that for once, his flirting had paid off.

***

Ella walked up to Maze, a briefcase in hand and a bounce in her step. “Sup, Girl! Ready to do this thing?” She chirped happily. Maze noticed the headset, and rolled her eyes. Bomb squad standing by, no doubt.

“Yeah, let’s go. Not sure how much time we still have.” Maze said, turning on her heals, heading to the back of the building. It was easy to avoid the agent keeping paces outside the building, as the sweater-vest wearing looser seemed too lost in thought to notice his surroundings. As they made their way in through the back door, Maze suddenly remembered something. Looking at Ella carrying her briefcase, she realized it was too small. 

“Where’s the decoy?” She demanded, stopping her in her tracks.

Ella beamed and held up the briefcase. “In here.” She opened it and pulled out a miniature duplicate of the bombs they had come to deal with. Maze shook her head. Figures. She forgot to discuss scale.

“The bombs are way bigger than that.” The demoness deadpanned. Ella’s eyes grew huge. 

“Like how much bigger?” She asked as they reached the elevator. Grinning, Maze ripped the ’out of order’ sign off, and walked in.

“That thing looks like it is about seven or eight inches long? The ones we’re talking about are more like two and a half feet long.” Ella cursed in Spanish, reaching for her headset. Maze stopped her.

“We totally need to call in professionals for this!” Ella exclaimed as the elevator doors started to close and it began its climb. Maze glared. Ella stared back, planting her feet in what she hoped was an assertive posture.

“Fine, tell them we will bring the bombs to them to deal with.” Maze finally conceded.

“How are we going to do that, you said they were huge. We should have them come and get them.” Maze was about to protest, when Ella touched the headset and started talking shop with the team of experts on the other line. As the elevator doors opened, Ella finished her dialogue.

The ladies stepped out and headed for the room the first bomb was hiding in. “So, what’s your plan, since you seem to be calling the shots?” Maze grumbled, opening the door and motioning for Ella to follow.

“We get this one first, then meet them by the dressing room closet downstairs, hand both over to them, and they take them out to disarm and investigate.” Ella announced proudly as they made their way into the bedroom. Ella gasped when she saw a man dressed in black, passed out on the floor.

“Don’t worry, I just knocked him out. Figured we could question him later.” Maze explained. As if in reply, the man on the floor groaned and turned over slightly. Ella nodded, and opened the door to the walk-in closet. As she saw the intimidating device sitting in front of her, she gasped.

“Are you kidding me now? That thing is huge!” Ella whispered fiercely.

Mazikeen grinned back at her, hefting the thing up with one arm, as if it weighed no more than a bag of potatoes. Motioning for Ella to follow, they quietly made their way out and headed for the elevator again. There was an awkward silence between the two as they rode it down and snuck in to find their way over to the other bomb in the dressing room closet. A group of very obvious officers wearing bomb squad gear stood there, waiting to greet them in silence as the music played in the ballroom just around the corner. They all watched in awe as Maze handed over bomb number one while Ella unscrewed the bindings holding down bomb number two. Maze hefted it up and easily handed it off to them as well. Each bomb took two people to haul. Without a word, they made their way out to deal with them. After a few minutes, Ella felt she could breathe again.

“Should we still bother with the decoy? I mean, it isn’t going to fool anyone.” Ella asked awkwardly. Maze seemed to be thinking about it, then she grinned.

“Is it still going to do what we talked about?” She smirked viciously. Ella nodded, grinning back. “Set it up then.” Maze decided. Giggling, Ella proceeded to retrieve the much smaller device from the briefcase and screw it into place on the floor. Just as she was finishing up, the women heard a voice behind them.

“Don’t move!” A not-even-remotely intimidating voice barked. Oh, no, Maze thought, Sweater-Vest. She had forgotten about him.

Turning around, both found themselves staring down the barrel of a pistol being held by the shaking hands of a bespectacled man who clearly didn’t know how to hold a gun steady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, sadly enough, this chapter does not have a lot of Lucifer action in it... but we get to see Archer being Archer, and that's always fun. :)  
Get ready, next chapter will be packed with action. Que spy music!


	7. Chaos Ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The characters really need to work on their communication skills. Remember when Lucifer thought that Archer fighting Maze would be fun? Well...

Cyril leveled his gun at the two very suspicious looking women with the new bomb. Two times in one day? He wasn’t about to mess up this time. After following the members of the society back to the main venue, he had set himself up patrolling the outer perimeter of the building, just as he had done at the brunch. He was alerted when he saw officers piling into the building, wearing bomb squad vests. Assuming Mrs. Archer had called them in, he followed to make sure the threat would be dealt with effectively. As he came in, he noticed them hauling out, not one, but two bombs! Just to be sure that the building was secure, he made his way over to the dressing rooms, intent on confirming that it was now free of any nefarious contraptions. That was when he noticed the two likely terrorists.

The first appeared to be a Latina girl with a slight frame, a bouncy black pony tail, and casual wear, not even a little suspicious looking if it weren’t for the head-set she was wearing. The other, however, had a very dangerous, very sexy ninja-bad-ass vibe to her. She had shoulder length dark hair and skin the same shade as Lana’s, dressed all in black, tight fitting leather, and she had what looked like ANOTHER BOMB, which she was securing in the SAME LOCATION! So naturally, he had pulled his gun on them.

The smaller girl had wide doe eyes, looking to all the world like a dear caught in headlights. Her arms flew up immediately, and her mouth dropped open. The leather clad ninja woman just turned to slowly take him in, a look of pure exasperation on her stunning face. Her hands were not raised. Rather, she seemed to be casually reaching for something in her belt. They were knives… he thought, but they had a very unusual shape to them, curved and almost feather like in design.

“Don’t move another muscle!” Cyril warned, feeling himself start to sweat. He didn’t want to shoot them, but he had a job to do. To her credit, the smaller culprit gulped and shot her partner a frightened look.

“Or what, Sweater-Vest?” The dangerous one remarked in a board tone. “You gonna shoot at me?” She started to stalk toward him like a lioness hunting an antelope.

“Dude, what you are doing?” the not-scary girl exclaimed. “He’s got a gun!”

“And he obviously doesn’t have a clue how to use it. Don’t worry, Ella, I’ve got this.” She smiled viciously at him, sending chills down his spine.

Don’t panic! Cyril tried to tell himself. It wasn’t working. His fingers were trembling as he leveled his shaking gun at his stalking predatory opponent. “Last chance!” He shouted. In response, she charged. As he fired, he realized how right she was. The bullet embedded itself in the wall behind her, a good foot and a half off target. Okay, maybe panicking was the appropriate response. Cyril screamed.

The gunshot had been all it took for everything to fly into chaos. Anastasia and Archer, who had been making their way toward the dressing room to ‘explore their current topic of conversation’ as per Lucifer’s suggestion, were closest. Without thinking, Archer pressed his lips to hers in a deep sensual kiss before pushing her away to safety, while drawing his gun and charging into the room. It was very dramatic, and he was sure he looked terribly heroic doing it. 

Lana turned her attention away from the prime minister of India, who had been explaining about his plans to boycott the UK. She immediately drew her gun, which was holstered under her skirt, high up on her thigh, and ordered everyone in the room to find cover. This resulted in mass panic from everyone as they, instead of finding cover, started to run about in a frenzied dash to get as far away from the perceived dangers as possible. 

Lucifer found the humans he had been entertaining clinging to him and dragging him back in their panic. He did not like all the unwanted contact, and huffed indignantly, firing a miffed look their way, which had no effect whatsoever. He was vaguely aware of Thomas Greene, a decent enough chap, if not entirely forthcoming, taking charge of the situation, instructing everyone to make for the exit. It almost felt as if he was herding them, and Lucifer was caught in the middle of the sheep. He was torn between not wanting to be mistaken for one of the flock and not wanting to hurt everyone in an attempt to break free. This resulted in his being carried along with the tide. 

Pam quickly shoved her food in her mouth and grinning, tore off the top of her dress to reveal the tattoos on her back, only marginally covered by a simple white bra. Cheryl started to jump up and down excitedly declaring that the robot insurrection was beginning. 

Upstairs, the man who had been knocked unconscious by Maze sat up, groaning, as he recognized the sounds of chaos below, and groaning again as he realized he would have to get down there. At the same instant, from the stairway, another man dressed from head to toe in black, ski mask in place, startled in his step, surprised by the unexpected madness he heard from beyond the door. It was too early, and he hadn’t triggered the device yet. Nothing was supposed to be happening until he was ready, and he wasn’t in position. Sighing, he pulled out his weapon and edged toward the door to assess the situation.

As Archer turned the corner, he saw Cyril, gun in hand. He was being charged by a strange woman in black leather. He fired his gun at the attacking woman, who was about to take Cyril out with her knives. She offered him a gleefully wild grin as she adjusted her movements ever so slightly, avoiding the shot by a millimeter, and dancing away from Cyril. Archer felt himself grow hard when he saw the beastly beauty ninja her way out of danger and look at him hungrily. Both wore an eager grin as they faced off. He absent-mindedly noticed another person was in the room, but he only had eyes for the dangerous sexy woman who was now charging at him with her knives. For a few moments of bliss, the two combatants found themselves locked in a deadly dance, dodging knives and gunshots, evading kicks and fists, and generally having the time of their lives.

Cyril, trying to be useful, pointed his gun again at the less threatening woman, and prepared to fire. She responded by running. He opened fire, peppering the walls with bullets, missing the target utterly and completely.

“Seriously, Cyril?” Archer said as he fired his gun, driving his opponent back, but unable to connect. Damn, she was good. “Storm Troopers are a better shot than you!” He declared. He got an appreciative snort from the woman, who was now throwing her knife his way, forcing him to dodge, which gave her the opportunity to get up close.

“Archer!” Lana cried out, as she came into view. She fired at his attacker, causing her to back up. Archer didn’t know that the ninja woman’s grin could get bigger, but when she saw Lana, it did. She licked her upper lip as she eyed the two agents, both taking aim, but then she seemed to remember her partner, who was being shot at by Cyril. Cyril, who was firing wildly, eyes closed, and screaming like a lunatic.

Maze sighed. She couldn’t let Ella get hurt, and even though the odds weren’t in favor of Sweater-Vest actually hitting anything important, better no risk than a small risk. She offered one last seductive glance at the two delicious looking agents and said, “Catch me if you can.” Then she dashed toward Cyril, knocking him aside. 

Ella heard the sound of someone hitting a wall and dared a glance back in time to see Maze gaining on her. To her surprise, the other woman scooped her up and carried her, bridal style, as she dashed to the window, leaping out of it to land on the fire escape. Ella squeaked and shut her eyes, as she clung to Maze in desperation. Her rescuer made her way effortlessly down the stairs. The frightened scientist was made aware of two people reaching the window above… mostly because she could hear them arguing excessively. Those two must be the Agents Archer and Kane, she thought.

Finally disentangled from the clingy humans, the Devil looked toward the sounds of commotion. Lucifer made his way toward the action, casually drawing the gun he had been given. “Ah, yes, there we go!” He sighed as he looked it over affectionately. “The last time I got to fire one of these on a case, it was shoved up the rear end of a puppet.” He reminisced as he glanced over his shoulder with an amused expression, twirling the gun playfully. He didn’t need it, but as infrequent as he got to play with one, he figured he might as well enjoy it. 

“I thought you were just role playing!” He heard one of the ministers exclaim fearfully.

“Oh, but I am. Always.” He replied casually. Then as an afterthought, he added, “You all may wish to make your exit now, as I’ve a suspicion things are about to get much more interesting, and by that,” His grin widened, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, “I mean deadly for you mortals.” As he spoke, he gestured toward the doorway. Taking the hint, the members of the society, led by Mr. Greene, eagerly made their way out, leaving Pam and Cheryl standing there, looking disappointed. But just as the three were starting to make their way toward the sounds coming from the dressing rooms, two more men entered the ballroom, one coming from the stairwell, and the other from the elevator. Both were dressed completely in black. Black turtle necks, Black pants, black ski masks. Black guns.

“Raaaaaawr!” Pam roared with a delighted grin, as she charged at the closer of the two, who shrieked in terror and tried to run, only to be fired at by the other man. 

“Really, Archer?” Lana exclaimed as she made her way out the window. “An erection???”

Archer rolled his eyes at his partner. ”What?” He demanded, climbing out behind her.

“Arrrg!” Lana growled, as she made to smack Archer in disgust.

Backing away and eyeing her cautiously, Archer tried to placate her. “Will you still hit me if I said she reminded me of you?” Apparently it didn’t help, because in response to that, Lana punched him in the kidney. He keeled over a bit and looked at her annoyed. “If you keep hitting on me, they’re going to get away!” He snapped.

“Hitting on?” Her voice was shrill. Lana took a couple deep breaths. “I. Am. Not. Hitting. On you.” Then sighing, she conceded, “We’ll discuss this later.” Looking down, they could see the two potential terrorists at the bottom of the stairway, making their way to a flashy red sports car. 

“Nice.” Archer said approvingly, eyeing the vehicle. As he made his way down the fire escape, he holstered his gun.

Lana still had her weapon drawn, and carefully took aim. When she fired, she was surprised to see the target dancing clear, having somehow anticipated the shot, even from this distance. Lana was thoroughly impressed as she put her gun away and made her way after Archer in pursuit. “You think she might be a cyborg?” Lana wondered.

“No way, Cyborgs don’t have to dodge bullets.” 

“Good point.” Lana conceded as they reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way to Archer’s flashy black sports car. “We’re going to have to hurry if we want to catch them.”

“Catch them?” Pam chuckled. “I’m going to destroy them!” She laughed maniacally in response to Lucifer’s suggestion to apprehend the criminals. Lucifer stood there, immobilized by shock as he watched the feral looking blonde woman tackling one of the assailants. She would make a fine demon, he realized with amusement. Speaking of demons, were was Maze?

The disguised man in black kicked her off of him with inhuman strength, and clambered to his feet, lowering his gun and raising his fists in a defensive pose. Odd behavior, Lucifer thought. He noticed the other man using the distraction to run for the dressing rooms, where all the commotion had just died down. Casually, Lucifer raised his weapon, getting ready to take aim, but at that moment, the sweater-vest wearing paper-work-loving bespectacled disappointment of a man who had been hounding him about health insurance came running out of the room, only to collide full force into the mysterious invader. Both men made an, “Oof!” as they fell on their rumps with a loud thud.

Sweater-Vest had a frantic look in his eyes as he lifted his gun - why did that man even have a gun, Lucifer wondered. This seemed to cause a panic in the masked man who shrieked and pointed his own gun. Both opened fire at the same moment. Both missed… remarkably. Lucifer wondered if this was divine intervention or if they were both just lousy shots.

The scene that unfolded before him reminded him of hell. The two by the dressing room were tumbling over one another punching, biting, and clawing wildly, while trying to get at the guns which had been discarded on the floor at their sides. The blond ape-woman was chasing the other, surprisingly fast intruder. She was launching herself on all fours and snarling excitedly. The Manky Red-Tart was throwing things at everyone screaming about how no one was going to put alien seeds in her except Lucifer. In the madness, all four combatants crashed into one another, and in a blind rage, they all just started punching kicking and scratching at one another, while trying to avoid the projectiles being lobbed at them - everything from tumblers and food to vases and sculptures. He had seen demons get into brawls like this. Usually such skirmishes were over petty nonsensical disagreements like gambling outcomes or torture methods. Quite common in Hell, but not here. He was surprised to see this sort of behavior on the Earthly Plane, but he has had plenty of experience dealing with these sorts of antics. 

Normally, in Hell, he would have someone else do it. Usually Maze, but she was off doing who-knows-what, so with a sigh, he raised his gun, pointing it straight up as he barked out in the most authoritative tone he could muster for everyone to hear, “DESIST, YOU DULLARDS, BEFORE I EVISCERATE YOU WHERE YOU STAND!!!” He fired his gun once to drive his point home. Everyone froze in place, eyes bulging at the unexpected interruption. 

***

Bret smiled to himself as he strolled toward the ice-cream shop. His step was slowed by the ever-present limp he had from the many times he had been shot while working for ISIS. The experience of repeatedly being shot (supposedly by mistake) had left him on edge. It didn’t help that the old gypsy woman had told him he would die one day from being shot, but today, he knew he could relax. It was day three of this vacation, and he was far from the ISIS head-quarters. Enjoying a little sightseeing, and relishing in his freedom. The absence of Agent Archer’s pompous mouth running all day reassured him that he was safe. Ah, this was the life. Just as he was about to reach the door to the shop, however, he saw a sequence of events unfold which caused his blood to turn cold, and his heart to skip a beat. 

First, it was the sudden insurgence of panicked socialites piling out of a building. They were being directed by a much calmer dark haired gentleman to cross the street, effectively creating a roadblock. Then came the flashy red car which tore around the corner, only to make a last minute decision to veer away from the frightened crowd, causing it to fly passed Bret at breakneck speed, followed almost immediately by a familiar black car, with one Lana Kane and one Sterling Archer in hot pursuit. Almost immediately, following that, the sound of gun fire was heard.

The bullet from said gun shot, which had been fired by one Lucifer Morningstar, had made quite a remarkable journey to reach him, drawn to him like a soul mate inevitably drawn by destiny. The bullet had hit the chandelier above Lucifer’s head, causing it to come crashing down, along with the mysterious contraption Krieger had placed there earlier. This resulted in a power surge, leaving the room in a haze, as the afternoon light from the vast elegant windows allowed in just enough daylight to keep the room mildly lit. The befuddled archangel simply stepped aside as the massive crystalline structure came crashing down where he had been standing, and watched in amazement as the bullet ricocheted again and sailed out the doorway. He then heard it pinging off of a couple other unexpected hard surfaces, until it found its way out of the building, where it flew across the street, narrowly missing a car, a discombobulated pigeon, and an electrical pole to embed itself into Bret’s right hip, fated, as it was, to be with him.

“GOD DAMNIT ARCHER!” Bret screamed in pain and fury as he fell to the ground.

***

The sound of Bret screaming seemed to break the spell in the Ballroom. Cheryl sighed and melted into a boneless puddle as she gazed at her current infatuation, who was staring with disbelief in the direction of the declaration. Normally, Lucifer would say that his father had nothing to do with it, but considering the number of coincidences needed for that poor sod to have been hit, he found himself wondering what the man had done to piss off dear old Dad so much.

“Holy Shit Snacks, was that Bret?” Pam exclaimed. 

“You know, it really did sound like him,” One of the masked men said in a suspiciously familiar voice. 

Lucifer looked at him with a bewildered expression. “Is that you, Sassy Pants?” He exclaimed, lowering the gun in confusion.

“Ray?” Cyril demanded, sitting up and adjusting his specs.

Sighing, Ray pulled off the mask and glared at them. “I would have said something sooner if you would have given me a chance.” He declared indignantly, crossing his arms.

“Well, what did you expect?” Pam demanded. “Why are you wearing a mask?”

“Yes, why?” Lucifer agreed, approaching them.

“Mrs. Archer wanted me to swap out the bomb with her decoy, and she wanted me to go incognito, so I wore a mask.” He said, as if that were an explanation. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, why would you need to hide your identity from us?” Cyril fumed.

This was met by silence, which was cut short by Cheryl, still on the floor, swooning and sending dreamy eyes at Lucifer. “Not that I care, but did you guys notice the other masked guy is running away?” She wondered aloud. This seemed to get everyone’s attention, as all eyes suddenly locked onto the other man, who was turning the corner into the dressing room and, no doubt, making his way to the fire escape.

“Right, uh… that.” Lucifer stammered, snapping out of his confusion. “I suppose we can’t let him get away,” He commented as he glanced at them expectantly. The other three just looked at him, with the same expectant expression on their faces.

“Well?” Lucifer snapped. “Go after him! Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” He demanded.

“Right!” Cyril was the first up, still determined to prove himself, followed immediately by Ray, who knew better than to trust Cyril on his own. Pam jumped up as well, not wanting to miss out on the fun. 

As the three started toward the dressing room doorway, Ray looked over his shoulder at Lucifer, and motioned for him to follow. “Aren’t you coming?” He asked.

“No.” Lucifer replied easily. “Seems like a boring fight, I’ll let you deal with him.” Then, with a wicked smile, he added, “I’m far more interested in the culprits that Mr. Archer and Agent Kane are chasing.”

Ray faltered, a mystified look on his face. “How’re you expecting to catch up with them? They’re long gone by now.” He pointed out. He received no reply from the enigmatic man standing in the nearly empty, disheveled, dimly lit ballroom. With a shrug, Ray turned and left, catching up to the others easily. Cybernetic legs being what they are.

Lucifer waited a few moments for everyone to clear out, then he turned to contemplate the Manky Red Tart. She was still on the floor gazing at him, seemingly disinterested in ever moving again. As his eyes fell on her, she shuddered in delight, and he shook his head. She was clearly bonkers, he realized, and it was likely no one would ever believe anything she said. Besides, he reasoned, her brain was already scrambled, so it was likely divinity wouldn’t do any more harm than that which had already been done… most likely by the rubber cement. With a shrug, he smiled mischievously at her, bringing his finger to his lips, shushing playfully. Then he unfurled his wings.

Cheryl stared in awe at the bright white feathers. Some part of her brain was telling her that he was not a cyborg after all, but rather… an angel? Didn’t he say he was the Devil? But the Devil is the opposite of an angel, so maybe he was an alien? A confused alien angel? That had to be it. Whatever. She didn’t care. She still wanted to be his Queen. But just as she opened her mouth to tell him, the wings moved. With one powerful downward thrust, her devilishly divine darling lifted off the ground and seemed to vanish.

Papers, flowers, and various other light objects fluttered about from the sudden rush of wind. Cheryl’s hair was tossed slightly before it settled again, and suddenly the room felt too empty. She sat there dazed for a brief moment before her brain kicked back into gear. She had to tell someone! Eagerly, she reached for her phone, but then she remembered how he had motioned for her to keep quiet. It was a secret. Their secret. Hers and her King’s, and no one else was worthy of knowing. Because they were all filth, and she was the chosen one. No longer did her thoughts linger on mind-controlling pineapples and cyborgs. Now she saw herself soaring elegantly through the heavens in the arms of her own personal seraph, accompanied by an army of Martians. Smiling proudly, she called Mrs. Archer so she could tell her how insignificant she was. Yes. This was the right thing to do, she decided.

Back on the street, all the members of the Society had already found their rides, along with their guards, secret service agents and the like. They were long gone. All except for Mr. Greene, of course, who decided it was time to make a call. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Slater’s number. If the CIA wanted his intel so badly, they were going to have to earn it. Timing was everything when it came to redirecting traffic, especially when it involved a high speed chase. 

Off to the side, a rather brazenly painted van sat idly by. Krieger stared, perspiration still clinging to him as he sat unmoving, a disheveled mess of a man. The image displayed on one of his many screens was stuck on freeze frame. Not unlike his brain. 

_White._ Like fresh fallen snow glistening in midday sun. Luminous wings spread proudly… 

Staring slack jawed, he muttered one sound, “meep.” His hand was stuck outstretched, pouring coffee into an overflowing cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter eggs for fans: Bret kept getting shot during their time as ISIS... and Lucifer's mention of the puppet incident. XD
> 
> And Yes! Minor reveal here, because we all love wing reveals. >:)


	8. Commence Chase Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bromance and Puns. Lana develops a headache. Pop culture references, too. See if you can spot the Monty-Python gag.

Mallory glared at her idiot receptionist. “Insignificant, am I?” She snarled, referring to the madwoman’s phone call. “You’re hardly in a position to judge, you worthless ninny. You couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the sole!” Looking over the ballroom, she tried to image what sort of madness had caused this. Her decoy was missing, a strange little mockup having taken its place, the socialites long gone, and the room was in shambles. On top of that, her agents were off doing God knows what, her Morningstar was missing, and most importantly, she was out of alcohol. “What happened here?”

Cheryl turned a dreamy expression on her boss. “Huh?” After a moment, she focused, snapping out of her daze. “Oh, right.” Then she grinned evilly at the older woman. “Lucifer and I are in love.”

The head of ISIS had no idea what to do with _that_ information. Clearly, it was nonsense, she insisted to herself. “That doesn’t answer my question. What happened, where is everyone?”

“Lucifer flew away.” She had that infuriatingly confounding distant look in her eyes again. Useless. The woman was useless.

“You had better start making sense, you twat. Where are my agents?” She demanded. 

***

Lana fumbled as she tried to ready her gun, but Archer’s weaving through traffic constantly was throwing her off. Window down, hair being tossed, the thrill of the chase was on. Whoever they were after had some mad driving skills.

“Whooooooooo!” Archer exulted, as they barely missed a semi after running yet another red light. “Seems like they are in a hurry. Maybe they are driving so _fast_ because they are _furious_ they got caught!” He looked at her with a knowing waggle of his eyebrows. Lana glared at him. That was bad, even for him.

“Eyes on the damn road, Archer.” She barked, trying to angle her gun. Damn. There were too many other people.

“Hey, that was a good one!” Archer retorted hotly. He brought his eyes back to the road, locking onto the bright red vehicle in front of them, but he also, annoyingly, persisted. “You had to have gotten that reference. They’re _fast,_ and they’re _furious?”_ His voice was thick with expectation.

“Ugh.” Lana sighed, feeling the weight of a thousand bad puns settle on her shoulders.

“Because we’re in a car chase, Lana.” He continued to needlessly explain.

“I get it.” She deadpanned. Finally, she had a clear shot, they had moved onto a stretch of highway with no other vehicles around. It was wide open. She fired out the window, busting the glass of the rear window in front of them.

“And there are chase scenes in the movies. The _Fast,_ and _Furious_ movies?” 

“I GET IT!” Lana snapped, frustration building.

“You don’t get it!” Ella shrieked in said red vehicle, still panicked about the shattered glass behind her. It felt like her heart was about to beat right out of her chest. Maze looked at her, bored, casually glancing behind them, toying with her knives. “When I stole cars, I had to avoid COPS, not maniac secret agents with a license to KILL!” As she said this, she made a sharp turn, unexpectedly taking the exit on the right, hoping their pursuers would overshoot. The tires squealed angrily.

Maze just chortled, and shrugged. “Still, you’re being a total bad ass, Ella, I’m impressed. Lucifer would be too. He loves movies with chase scenes.” Who knew the petite little scientist was secretly a deviant who stole cars in her youth, or that she could drive like this? Sexy as Hell.

“What?” Ella panicked as she heard the other vehicle’s tires squeal to make the turn, followed by the sound of a shot firing passed them. “We’re about to die, and you’re talking about action flicks?” Ella balked, making a sharp left turn, just before the flow of traffic would cut off their pursuers. They just barley pulled through before a city bus rushed by, close enough to send a gust of wind through the broken glass of the back window. This, at least, would buy them time. 

“We aren’t about to die, Ella.” Maze grinned. “See? You lost them.”

“Shit! We lost ‘em!” Lana hissed, as the spy-car skidded to a stop at the turn their targets took, waiting for the traffic to clear enough for them to continue the chase. 

“Nah, we can catch up. I still see them.” Archer remarked, but just as the last vehicle passed, and they started to make their turn, a sudden jostling thump on the roof of the car caused them to startle. Both agents screamed as they saw the indent above them, and Lana trained her gun on Archer’s door as a hand, of all things, came down to open it. Before she could fire, however, the unexplainable happened.

Lucifer’s cheeky grin dropped into view, charming as ever, even as it was upside down, in the open driver’s side doorway. He slid in from the roof, bodily shoving a protesting Archer aside, and onto Lana’s lap, which in turn, caused Lana to protest. In one fluid graceful motion, he righted himself in the driver’s seat, as he closed the door, and gunned the engine to life, tearing after the quickly receding car. Archer and Lana gawked at him. “Miss me, Darlings?” He purred, as he accelerated recklessly fast. The sudden increase in speed tossed Archer, who was in the process of clambering off of Lana’s lap toward the back, headlong into the seats. “My, I must say, our culprits do have lovely taste in vehicles. A Bugatti Veyron, I’ve one of those myself in my garage.” He practically sang. From the look of him, he couldn’t possibly be happier. Lana instinctively buckled up, panic sinking in as she saw them barreling straight for a ninety degree turn without slowing, still too in shock to speak. “What a delightful chase we’ve got here!” Lucifer flashed his winning smile at them as he suddenly turned the wheel sharply to the right, causing them to drift left, missing the brick wall of the building across the street by inches, and causing Archer to slam into the right side of the back seats with an ‘oomph.’

“You’re going to get us killed!” Lana finally managed to cry out.

“How’d you even get here?” Archer wondered as he sat back up, straightening his rumpled hair. Even Archer sounded a bit shaken.

“Why, I flew, of course.”

“Fine, don’t tell us. But can you ease up?” Lana gasped through clenched teeth.

Lucifer looked at her briefly, wearing the face of a pouting child. “But they just sped up again, and I never get to do anything like this with the LAPD.” He huffed. “It’s just like in the Fast and Furious movies!” He added brightly.

“Right?!” Archer said, grinning from ear to ear, as he cocked his gun and rolled down the back window. “Lana doesn’t get it.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Lana shrieked, from equal parts rage and terror as they made yet another hair raising turn, this time, just narrowly missing an old couple at a crosswalk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Ella screamed again as yet another bullet whizzed by. _“Dios nos salve. Perdoname por mi sentencia. No quiero morir. No quiero morir.”_ Ella started to stammer as terror took over. She could feel her hands start to freeze up and tremble as adrenaline pumped through her in quantities hitherto unknown. Maze seemed to notice that her getaway driver was reaching her limit, and started to take stock of their situation. 

“Slam on the breaks, we’re getting out.” Maze ordered, as she noticed a farmer’s market up ahead.

“What?” Ella chattered.

“Just do it!” Maze barked with urgency. As instructed, the forensic scientist, who was in way over her head, slammed on the breaks, causing the car to spin out and tumble sideways, end over end. Good thing Ella was buckled. In the back of her head, a calm voice asked, why don’t we just call Lucifer and tell him to call off his attack dogs? But there was no time to act on that thought, as she felt her buckle being undone, and for the second time in that day, she felt Maze’s surprisingly sturdy grip around her, pulling her out of the vehicle, which was still in mid tumble. Ella felt slightly light headed as they exited the car and landed on pavement, her senses suddenly seized by the smells of falafel and flowers. Before she knew it, she and Maze were darting headlong into the Farmer’s Market, the sound of screeching tires behind them telling her the chase was definitely still on. The same crazy calm voice in the back of her head commented about how the phone was still in the car. Now how were they going to call Lucifer? Figured.

Perhaps he ought to call Maze, Lucifer thought as he drifted to a clean stop next to the red Bugatti, which was now, sadly upside down. Poor car had seen better days, and he felt a touch of remorse for the loss. Both Lana and Archer leaped out and took off after the two vaguely familiar female culprits who were now dashing into the throngs of the crowd. He had hoped he could get a better look at them, but as he had to keep his attention on driving, it was only a fleeting glance. Still, something seemed slightly off about this. Maze could probably offer him some insight.

“Sweet baby kittens!” Archer declared as he landed on the sidewalk and made chase, “I can’t believe we’re at a Farmer’s Market, it’s just like the old gypsy woman said!”

Interesting, Lucifer thought, he wasn’t usually one to believe in fortune-telling - hogwash, all of it - but if she actually predicted _this_ madness, perhaps he ought to look her up himself. Shrugging, he casually brushed the thought aside and extracted himself from the vehicle, breathing in deeply. “Either of you want a Falafel Gyro?” He shouted after his two compatriots. He couldn’t help but grin at the realization that he was at a farmer’s market again. He wondered if this, too, counted as a date.

“How about a lamb kabob!” Archer shouted back, not slowing his chase. Good choice, the hungry archangel mused. Curse his celestial metabolism.

Making his way to the food cart emitting the delightful odors, Lucifer pulled out his phone and dialed Maze. What good was it having a demon bounty hunter watching your back if she wasn’t even around when all the fun began?

Maze was having fun when the buzzing in her bodice suddenly caught her off guard. She led Ella toward the arts and crafts section, weaving quickly through the crowd, disregarding the various angry expletives shot their way. Ella’s legs were shaking, and Maze wondered if she would have to carry her again. She wouldn’t mind at all. But first, she pulled her phone out of her cleavage. It was Lucifer. Good.

He had a clear shot. Archer didn’t hesitate before he fired into the crowd. His aim was flawless. The bullet connected with the phone being pulled out by the ninja woman. They were close enough to hear her curse right before she dragged the bug-eyed smaller woman into a thicker crowd, which was now in a frenzy. He would have fired again, but the stampeding masses were in the way. He did, however notice as his target glanced at him with that same deliciously wicked grin on her beautiful face, and he felt himself growing hard. Again. He hoped Lana wouldn’t notice this time.

“What the hell, Archer!” Lana snapped, as she smacked him in the back of the head. This didn’t help with the erection. “You could have hit someone, and now we have chaos. How are we going to keep track of them in this mess?”

“She was calling someone. Probably for back up!” He defended, as he avoided being trampled by a rather large woman in a red Mumu. The sight of her barreling toward him fixed the problem in his pants rather abruptly. 

Lana made haste, yelling for everyone to get out of the way, just as she heard the sound of sirens approaching. “And the police have finally caught on, too.” She grumbled as she ran. It didn’t take long before she realized she had lost them. Archer, for his part, seemed not to mind too much. 

“Well, this situation is just beyond _Police._” Archer joked. Lana could not _believe_ him. He was going to start this _now?_

She glared as she made her way through the quickly emptying stalls. “No, Archer, please, no more puns.” She exasperated.

“Oh, _Police_, I would never.”

“Seriously, knock it off. We need to find those two, and I need to focus.” She rubbed her temples, feeling her all-too-familiar-Archer-headache coming on. She really needed some stress relief. Using Archer as a punching bag was great for that.

“Looks like you could really use some stress _police_.” Archer jeered. Lana swatted at him, but having expected this he danced out of the way, laughing. “Hey, don’t use me for your… _police_ therapy.” Lana was considering shooting him now. “Ooh, are you going to attack and… _police_ me?”

“I’m considering it.” She snarled.

“That’s quite enough of that,” They heard a familiar Welsh accent from behind them. They turned to see Lucifer, gyro in one hand and lamb kabob in the other. He was looking at Archer, tisking playfully. “This skit is too silly.” He scolded as he offered out the kabob he had apparently gotten for him. Lana stared, dumb-founded as Archer delightedly accepted the offering, miraculously forgetting all about his puns. “I’m sorry, my dear, I would’ve gotten you one as well, but you seemed disinterested.” Lucifer apologized, obviously misinterpreting the look on her face. 

“Dude!” Archer slapped his devilish friend on the back, as he greedily took a bite. “Yuu err sherishly teh besht!” He praised through a mouthful of food before swallowing. “Thanks, Luci!” Another bite, from both. Lana clenched her fists so tight her knuckles were turning white. She had officially had enough. The two men meandered through the now mostly empty market, as if there was no rush. No rush at all. “Can I call you Luci? When I finally get a plane, I’m naming it Luci.” Archer continued.

“You can’t be serious.” Lana growled before their devilish companion could reply. “You stayed back to get food!?” She glared at their civilian charge. He looked almost hurt by her reprimand, and for some inconceivable reason, she actually felt a bit guilty for picking on him. What was wrong with her?

Lucifer looked at her innocently, licking his lips. “Chasing bad guys works up an appetite, and how was I to pass up a good gyro?” He asked seriously, before taking another bight. “Beshidesh, I hat ta make a call,” He paused a moment to swallow. Clearly he was more adept at talking with his mouth full. Lana had her suspicions as to why that might be. “Lot of good it did when Maze won’t answer.” He groused, clearly perturbed.

“Make a call?” Lana sighed. “You could have been helping us catch them, but now we’ve lost them and the… cops are here, which is just going to complicate things more.” She said, trying to be patient. She reminded herself that Lucifer, at least, _may_ not have had any formal training. He _may_ actually be just a civilian… with a crazy skillset, and judging from his careless mannerism, she was starting to think this might actually be the case. There was still no excuse for Archer, but what else was new.

“Lay off, Lana.” Archer defended. “Luci wasn’t even supposed to be a part of this, remember?”

“They went that way, my dear.” Lucifer said, casually pointing to the right, and strolling—more wandering in that general direction. 

“How could you possibly know that?” Lana exasperated. 

“My senses are better than yours.” He commented offhandedly. “And I already talked to the police, they are apprehending the busted vehicle as we speak. They also agreed to stand by for the time being to allow the _wonderful_ ISIS agents time to finish their objective.” He didn’t add the bit about the man saying that the CIA had ordered them to hold their positions, as he felt it inconsequential. Lana stared at him. “You’re welcome, by the way.” He took a final bite of his meal and tossed the crumpled wrapper into a nearby garbage can. Archer followed suit, tossing his kabob stick in after. At the perfect shots from both, the two oversized children high fived, clearly pleased with themselves.

Archer, grabbed a couple of peaches from one of the now abandoned stalls as he went. “Seriously, man, if you _are_ a cyborg, I’m going to have a really hard time hating you.” He remarked before taking a giant bite from one peach and offering the other to Lucifer. Lana felt herself growing more and more irritated by the second. These two were feeding off of one another. Literally! 

“Ooh! Love me a peach!” Lucifer chirped happily accepting the fruit, and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Lana. Archer grinned as they reached the sidewalk. The two culprits could be seen entering a building on the other side of the now blocked-off street. Whatever Lucifer said, it seemed to be working, as the police were clearly aiding in their cause now. The broken window of the front door offered the offenders access to the locks, and the two were in and slamming the door behind them in a flash. “And I’m the Devil, remember? Not a cyborg.” He added for Archer’s benefit.

***

“Being a cyborg totally has its perks,” the man in black said as he tested the strength in his arms. Feeling smug, he smoothed his black turtleneck and straightened his blond hair once more before he turned to his collection of assorted firearms. “Which one? Which one?” Just as he was about to make a choice, he heard the sound of breaking glass, and a door opening. Two sets of feet could be heard entering, followed by the sound of a slamming door and women’s voices. One sounded excited, the other, thoroughly freaked out. No worries, he still had time. Setting his weapons aside, he glanced out of his cubical to see them barreling down the hallway toward him as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. 

The smaller of the two was cute. Nerdy looking. Bouncy ponytail and tight fitting t-shirt. The other was clad in leather and, dare he say, looked about as deadly as Katya. He liked what he saw, but he hardly had time to think about it as they nearly collided with him. He stepped aside just in time to avoid the impact and grinned as he heard the tough looking woman talking to her friend.

“Of course you left your phone in the car.” She said. She glanced briefly at him, casually taking note of his assorted toys, gaze sliding up to his red eyes. At this, she shrugged. Interesting reaction.  
“I didn’t exactly have a choice, you know.” Came the breathless reply.

The two made their way hastily toward the elevator at the other end. “Did that guy seem off to you?” the tough woman asked.

“What, the giant pile of guns tip you off?” The smaller woman gesticulated wildly.

“Yeah, and red eyes. Didn’t smell like a demon, though, so not my problem.”

After that, they were out of earshot, and he shrugged to himself. They clearly had other things on their mind, and as long as they weren’t going to interfere with his mission, they were not his problem. He turned his attention back to the window. Mr. Greene was supposed to be meeting with the CIA at the Farmer’s Market across the street in about an hour. I’m coming for you, traitor.” He sang.

***

“Phrasing!” Archer exalted. “Also, better the Devil than a Cyborg,” he added, as they crossed the street, making their way toward the rather tall office building.

Lucifer perked up at that, feeling validated in more ways than one. “It’s always about phrasing with me, my good man.” He smirked playfully at Archer. “It’s like pun-derdome in here.” He tapped his head as he spoke, earning a knowing laugh from Archer and a snort, which both Archer and Lucifer counted as laughter from Lana. “The filthier the better.” He seemed delighted as he reached out to the door of the building and opened it. Archer nodded understandingly, lingering by the doorway. Lana resisted the urge to laugh, a strangled chuff escaping her unwilling lips. 

“This isn’t a game” Lana reprimanded – inwardly scolding herself for having encouraged this behavior as she stood by the open door. Her gun was still out. Archer shrugged. Lucifer grinned.

“But it _is_ a game. The more interesting the role, the more fun it is to get _into_ it.” He had that suggestive tone again. Lana tried not to smile, already knowing what Archer was going to say, telling herself that their antics were _not_ amusing to her. Really. They were – if anything – annoying. Really.

“Get all the way in, really _penetrate_ the role.” Archer grinned. Lana elbowed him in his gut. Hard. They needed to stop making jokes and start focusing on the mission before walking into a potential fire fight. The loss of air from his lungs seemed to cause him to lose his train of thought.

“Can we just not?” She grumbled.

“Hey, you laughed too. Admit it, you like it!” Archer defended, holding his gut.

“Laughter is not consent.” Lana countered indignantly.

Both men looked at her, the expressions on their faces indicating that they were not sure they agreed with that statement. For a moment, all three were silent and unmoving outside the building.

Finally, Lucifer broke the silence. “Are you coming?” He queried, motioning for them to enter.

“No, but I _am_ breathing hard.” Archer guffawed without missing a beat. This resulted in both doubling over. Lana rolled her eyes and marched in. Shrugging, Archer, and then Lucifer followed.

“Can cyborgs go to Hell?” Archer wondered aloud as he entered the building, gun raised and ready. Great, they were back to talking about cyborgs. Lana almost preferred the puns. 

“If they have a soul, yes.” Lucifer replied as Lana made her way in next. 

Lana sighed. She could not believe she was hearing this. “Would someone, _please_, just shoot me.” She groaned, readying her gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Spanish speaking readers, I would be tremendously grateful to you if you could read through Ella's panicked rambling. Let me know if it works, or if you could think of a better, more natural sounding rambling.
> 
> You are all amazing for reading this. Cheers. Two chapters left!


	9. Cyborgs are Real?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the big showdown, everything starts to wrap up and make sense... almost everything.

The distinct sound of Archer’s voice could he heard through the empty hallways and into the office cubical where the man sat, toying with his machine gun. This would be his weapon of choice. It was perfect. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was here because of the mission Katya had assigned him. It was a simple assassination of a rogue agent, but this… this was so much better. Now he wouldn’t have to chase down Archer after he was done turning Greene into Swiss cheese. The idiot was coming to him on his own, apparently chasing a couple of women. He laughed. Some things never change, do they? The man’s red cyborg eyes brightened with anticipation. 

“Revenge at last, Barry.” He said to himself.

“Is this a good idea, other Barry, I mean, we_ are_ on a mission.”

“What mission is more important than ripping Archer apart?” He started toward the sound, peaking casually around the corner of the cubical, careful to avoid being detected.

“Blasting that traitor, Greene into next week?” Barry asked himself nervously in a hushed voice.

“Let me ask you a question, Barry, who do we hate more, the CIA or Archer? There’s only one answer, really.” He pointed out to himself casually.

“Do you think Katya will be mad at us?” He asked, curious.

“Probably, Barry, but she’ll get over it.” He answered himself smugly. Slinking into the shadows, he waited as he heard his target approaching. He noticed Lana was with him again. Barry grinned. There was also someone else, someone he had not seen before, but… who cared?

“I’m just saying that cyborgs are more machine than person, so technically, that makes them not human, and only humans go to Hell.” Archer tried to reason as he advanced around the corner. 

“Hardly.” Lucifer replied with a jib lilt in his smooth voice. As he rounded the corning as well, he saw the two fleeing women approaching the elevator. “No, it couldn’t be.” Lucifer gasped, peering more intently at the now very familiar shapes of the two they were pursuing. How ironic.

“That’s what I was saying, they couldn’t possibly...” Archer started to say. Their conversation was cut short however when the room erupted with a hail storm of bullets and an enthralled cry.

“WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOO!” Their attacker cheered as the bullets came flying at them.

“Get down!” Archer screamed throwing himself on his new BFF, plowing onto the floor behind a flimsy office wall. Two half eaten peaches flew into the hallway, only to be pulverized by the onslaught of projectiles. Lana dove for cover as well, sending a death glared at Archer for his apparent lack of concern for her wellbeing. 

Archer heard the familiar cackling of Barry’s voice over the deafening sound of bullets. “Great. Speak of the Devil.” He grumbled from on top of Lucifer who blinked up at him owlishly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Yes, I’m right here.” He said looking at the man on top of him quizzically, not particularly minding the position he now found himself in.

“Not you, man, Barry. He’s a cyborg.” Archer explained, getting off of the civilian consultant and leaning against the wall, his weapon readied. Lucifer noticed he still held one hand to his chest, indicating that he should stay down. How thoughtful.

“Shut it, Archer, you’re just letting him know where to shoot.” Lana hissed, her eyes intense, weapon readied.

At the other end of the hallway, Maze and Ella dove for cover, startled by the cacophony of noise, but when they realized it wasn’t directed at them, Maze dared to look. There, in the middle of the hallway, stood the man they had passed earlier, firing a machine gun. He was firing madly at their pursuers, who, Maze had to remind herself, were not actually their enemies. What fresh hell was this? Maze didn’t know, but she loved it. Maybe the man in black was her problem after all, maybe he was a good fight? “Stay hidden,” Maze instructed of Ella, who was more than happy to huddle in a corner and cover her face. Poor little human was in waaaay over her head.

Lucifer fidgeted, noticing how crumpled his suit was, and how undignified it was for him to be laying on the floor while Lana and Archer took shots at the unexpected newcomer. This would not do. Sitting up, he grumpily straightened the sleeves of this jacket and adjusted his cufflinks. No one seemed to notice. But then, how could they, with that maniac firing at them and laughing like a cartoon supervillain? When the sound of firing died down, he made up his mind.

“It’s over, Archer!” Barry crowed cheerily. “I’m going to make mincemeat out of your hide and parade around town with it!”

“Like Hell, you are!” Archer retorted, firing at Barry. The bullet connected with the cyborg’s chest plate and pinged off harmlessly.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Barry laughed unkindly. “You can’t hurt me!” He reached for another weapon. This one would decimate the area – and Archer – in no time flat.

Lana looked worriedly at Archer, expecting him to make another idiotic move on the cyborg, fully expecting to see him get his ass handed to him like always whenever the moron tried to take on a cyborg. Only it wasn’t Archer she saw advancing. Horrified, she watched Lucifer stroll right out into the open, a thoroughly irritated expression fixed on his handsome face. “What are you doing?” Lana demanded, trying to grab his arm. The self-proclaimed-Devil brushed her arm aside with ease, and strode forward like he owned the place, irritation twisting into a wickedly gleeful grin.

“Catching this malcontent, and bringing the wanker to justice, because I am officially cheesed off.” Lucifer stated matter-of-factly. 

Barry looked bemused at the well-dressed rich boy who seemed to be looking at him like he was a prey animal. Him! Barry the cyborg! A prey animal? It was funny enough to cause him to hesitate and chuckle a bit. “I don’t know who you are, but if you’re a friend of Archer’s than you can die too.” Barry declared after a moment of thought, and he opened fire again. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Archer and Lana at this point. They saw Barry pull the trigger. Bullets filled the air. Both fought the impulse to pull their reckless team member to the side, but neither did, knowing full well it was already too late for him as bullets flew passed them, and the sickening sound of multiple impacts could be heard.

“Noooooooo! Luci!!!!” Archer cried in despair as he tried to fire blindly back at the cyborg, tears streaming freely from his blue heart-broken eyes.

“Lucifer!” Lana wept, closing her eyes. She did not want to see his body torn to pieces by the rain of bullets now pelting him. When the sound of firing stopped, she heard the man stagger and fall back, hitting the ground with a resounding and deathly thud.

After a moment of debilitating silence both agents dared to look, fully expecting to see a bloody mess. Lucifer lay still, surprisingly in one piece, no blood, eyes closed, and unmoving. The lack of carnage was only mildly surprising, but Archer brushed that aside, feeling a desperate rage fill him.

“I’m going to rip you to pieces!” Archer roared, seeing red. With a wild primal look in his eyes, he charged his nemesis, gun firing repeatedly until he was out of bullets. Barry held out his arms and accepted each bullet with a chuckle. 

“Strike a nerve, did I?” Barry laughed. “Was that your boyfriend? Sorry not sorry.” He sneered as Archer kicked him with a round house strong enough to cause him to actually lose his balance and fly back a bit. Archer then threw his full weight upon him, pounding his fists expertly into the cyborg’s metal frame. As usual, none of it did any good. Grinning evilly, Barry simply grabbed the whirlwind of Archer by the throat and lifted him clear off the ground.

Archer found himself gasping and frantically struggling for air. This didn’t matter much to him, however, as just the night before, he had been practicing the art of breaking free from an unreasonably strong hold with Lucifer. The memory of wrestling with him in an attempt to get at the liquor and the sweet memories of the night before brought a sting of tears to his eyes. Lucifer had been grumpy about wings. Well, now, maybe he was an angel in heaven, and he really _did_ have wings, Archer thought to himself. He hoped so. He forced back a strangled sob as he twisted and brought his foot up into Barry’s arm at exactly the right point to force the arm to twist just enough, loosening his grip. Barry dropped Archer, who wasted no time at all to bust a power outlet behind him and whirl around Barry to knock him into the outlet, causing a surge of power to spark. Barry fried for a moment before the power in the building went out, and he fell back in shock. Archer then brought a heavy piece of artillery from Barry’s bag of toys down on him, pounding repeatedly, and surprisingly hard, using it as a bludgeon, because bullets hadn’t been working.

“My,” Barry huffed out between hits. “Have we… been… practice…ing?” His words cut short occasionally by Archer’s relentless attack. The man was clearly in Rampage mode.

“YES!!!” Archer roared. “With him!” He glanced toward the prostrate form in the hallway, which Lana had crawled over to. Barry caught the weapon in Archer’s hand, and ripped it away, squeezing tight enough to bend the metal in on itself. Archer was not daunted. He charged again, but Barry had regained his senses enough to jump back, and land a kick in Archer’s chest, sending him back against the cubical, busting it down.

Lana looked at the clearly still breathing form of the consultant in disbelief, marveling at the lack of puncture wounds when Lucifer sat up suddenly, with a surprised gasp. Lana found herself gasping as well. She scooted back quickly, eyes wide in confused grateful befuddlement. He glanced at her for the briefest moment, relief in his eyes as he saw her unharmed, and then down at his body, to see the suit torn in a multitude of places by the onslaught of bullets. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes blazed. Lana stared in pure bafflement, trying and failing to form words. His suit was pelted with holes, but otherwise, somehow, he was seemingly untouched. There was only one explanation for what she saw now, Lana thought. He really _was _a cyborg.

Vaguely registering the movement, Archer glanced momentarily to see his friend sitting up, apparently fine. There was only one explanation for this. He was the luckiest man on earth. How had every single one of those bullets missed his flesh? Even Archer wasn’t THAT lucky. Archer was going to have to take him gambling some time to see if his luck held out when playing cards. But first, he had a cyborg to destroy. 

Feeling a surge of confidence, Archer was at his opponent again, throwing bits of the broken wall at him to cover his advance, while simultaneously grabbing yet another gun from the bag of holding that Barry had brought with him. Barry, for his part, was leaning in, clearly in a pose that indicated he was ready to pounce and end this. But the battle was cut off, however, when Lucifer stood up and threw his gun at Berry, hitting him in the head. This impact was hard enough to jostle the cyborg slightly. This was unexpected for a number of reasons, and both combatants froze in their advances to gawk at the impossible man. He stood there fuming, fists clenching and unclenching in barely contained fury.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Lucifer snarled. His usually silky voice held none of the joy de verve it usually held. It sounded positively menacing. “You’ve ruined a perfectly good suit!” the avenging fallen archangel snapped, advancing on the assailant with purpose, eyes ablaze with hell fire. “This. Was. PRADA!” He roared.

Barry straightened in surprise. “How are you not hamburger meat now?” He asked in bewilderment.

Maze watched as she saw Lucifer emerge from one of the office cubicles. She knew he was going to hog the fight for himself. So selfish. But at least she was in for a glorious show. Might as well enjoy it. She grinned savagely when she saw him getting blasted with bullets. He was going to be pissed. She licked her lips as she watched the Duchess throw himself into battle. The man had some moves! His opponent, it seemed, was not human, however. She smirked when she saw her former boss sit up. She was already laughing when she heard him bemoaning about his ruined suit, and she almost died from the hilarity when she saw him grab the surprised attacker by the throat - which was the exact same thing said attacker had done to Sterling Archer just moments before - and lift him off the ground.

“Hey, Ella, it’s okay to come out now. Lucifer is here. We’re good.” She said cheerily, motioning for her friend to come out of the hidey hole she had crawled into, under a desk by the corner. 

Ella’s head popped out, a look of relief flitting across her face. “Lucifer? Does that mean no more shooting?” She gasped hopefully, eyes still wide with unbridled panic.

“Probably.” Maze replied casually, starting to walk down the corridor toward the action. Far be it from her to let the Devil have all the fun.

Barry stared at the stranger in disbelief. Furiously, he pounded on his arm and tried to break free, but not even one ounce of his cyborg strength seemed to be working. Who or what was he? “This! Is! Supposed! To! Work!” He exclaimed punctuating each word with a kick or punch. It was as if the man holding him was made of… well, not metal. Barry was metal. What was harder than metal? What was stronger than a cyborg? Archer leveled his weapon at the fried patch on Barry’s head, wondering glee written all over him.

“Give me one good reason not to break every bone in your body.” Lucifer glowered.

“Archer already did that, which is why I have a metal skeleton now.” Barry gasped. He shot a rage filled glance at Archer. Surprised by Barry’s response, Lucifer’s grip lessened ever so slightly, arm lowering a fraction. Not enough for Barry to break free, but enough to inspire another bout of struggling. Lucifer looked quizzically at his spy friend.

“And I would do it again. Even _if_ it made him into a cyborg. The guy’s a total ass-hat,” Archer stated proudly, keeping his gun leveled.

Lana stood up from where she had still been kneeling, a look of concern on her face. She lifted her firearm and started to advance toward the others, trying to gain a measure of the situation. She was still having difficulty processing the reality that, for once, they actually had the upper hand with Barry.

“So cyborgs _are_ real?” Lucifer wondered, looking at him again, keenly interested.

“Are you not one?” Lana asked in shock. Nothing made sense again.

“Whatever he is, he is strong enough to take out a cyborg, can’t complain there.” Archer came closer, holding the gun inches from Barry and grinned viciously. Part of him wanted to just finish him off, but most of him was savoring the moment too much. “Turn around is fair play, if you ask me.” He laughed unkindly, eyes locked on the captive cyborg, who was still being held up effortlessly by his friend – and still punching and squirming to break free.

“Devil, darlings, you humans have such a hard time with this, I swear.” Lucifer huffed.

Barry twisted helplessly in his grip, but still managed to shoot Lana a lecherous grin. He seemed unbothered by Lucifer’s declaration, the retired lord of Hell noted with frustration. “Hey, baby, how’s about when this is over with, we make our getaway and I remind you of all the ways I’m better than Archer.” Barry crooned. Lucifer’s grip tightened again, clearly not pleased. Barry was lifted further from the ground again.

Lana rolled her eyes at Barry. She was never going to live that down. “So, you got a pretty good hold on him?” She asked cautiously of Lucifer, not believing what she was seeing. 

“Quite.” Lucifer replied. “Do you think he was the one setting up the bomb at the gala? He has the right attire for it.” He waved his hand to indicate the black turtleneck and pants.

“Oh, sure, blame the cyborg!” Barry snarled from where he hung. 

Lana grinned as she placed her hand on Lucifer’s flexing bicep. He didn’t feel like a cyborg. “It fits.” She agreed, looking accusingly at Barry, then she leaned in closer to Lucifer. “Be a dear and bang him on the floor a few times?” She purred into his ear. Gooseflesh spread across his neck from the brush of her breath. Definitely not a cyborg, then… but what??? He couldn’t possibly be the actual Devil. That would be absurd. Maybe he was the product of some messed up secret experiments… from someone like Krieger. Yep, Lana decided. It would definitely explain why Krieger was so interested in him.

Lucifer, for his part, could not believe his ears. He had been certain that Lana was about to tell him to let the man go - as the Detective would have done. But here was Lana, suggesting he do exactly what he wanted, and she said it so seductively. Who was he to deny the desires of this sexy little minx? 

“My pleasure.” He smiled delightedly at her as he proceeded to throw his quarry full force into the floor. 

The moment his face was buried into the splintering wood and cement beneath it, Lucifer lifted him up again, bringing him in close so that only he could see. Summoning the fury of Hell, he let his eyes blaze a brilliant red. The color drained from Berry’s battered face as the feeling of gut-wrenching dread set in, and the Cyborg tried to pull away, feeling true fathomless terror for the first time in his already insane life.

It was in that instant that Maze, who had been approaching casually down the hallway, threw one of her knives. It found its mark, burying deep into the circuit board in the side of Barry’s head, at the same spot where Archer had fried him earlier. The cyborg short circuited for a moment, electricity sparking in little burst of lightning, charging the air around them and then the whole system went dead. Barry was silent and unmoving. Archer and Lana looked up in disbelief at Maze, who looked annoyed by how easy it had been to shut him off. 

Lucifer beamed at her like a happy puppy. “Maze! There you are!” He elated, dropping the disabled cyborg with abandon.

“Wait, you know her?” Lana demanded, lowering her gun.

“Does that mean we don’t get to fight her?” Archer wondered, also lowering his firearm, all but forgetting about Barry. Then, looking at Lucifer, realization dawning on him with a wide grin, he added, “Hey, um… just curious, but are you immortal too? I already know I am, but I thought I was the only one.”

“What?” Lana balked. “Yes!” Lucifer replied delightedly at the same instant, with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to make of Archer thinking himself immortal, but he was glad that at least one person seemed to believe him… if only just partially.

“Is he dead?” Ella asked from behind Maze, a nervous breath stuttering from her frazzled lips as she glanced at the prone form on the ground, hands gripping at Maze’s arm for support.

“I don’t think so, I think he’s broken.” Lucifer mused kicking him over curiously. Now he wondered if cyborgs _did_ go to Hell. And does it still count as killing a human if the human is a machine?

“Can we keep him?” Maze asked excitedly, already imaging all the things she wanted to do to – with? - This not-quite-human man.

***

“Mission accomplished.” Slater’s voice could be heard on the other end, a smug ring to his voice. “I guess you were right. That lunatic cyborg on your tail really doesn’t have any self-control when it comes to ISIS.”

Thomas Greene snorted a bit. “That is just a sample of what I have to offer.” He said pleasantly.

He heard silence on the other end as the man considered something. “Curious. What is it about ISIS that has him so worked up?”

“No more freebies, you want more, you know what to do.” He hung up, feeling pleased as punch with himself over a job well done. Outsmarting Barry was no easy feat. Getting the CIA to come to heal, even trickier. Pulling one over on ISIS, however, easiest thing in the world. 

Lucifer Morningstar… that was unexpected. He hoped the club owner was okay. Perhaps he ought to send him a basket of fruit by way of thank you for helping out, even if it _was_ a fluke. Perhaps he ought to investigate the Devilish club owner more closely… in private. Some other time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update. Something about Borderlands 3 and a sick husband Bogarting the computer... you understand, I hope. One chapter left!
> 
> Comments welcomed and greatly appreciated.


	10. Bombs Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story concludes. All lose ends tied up nice an neat. If you go back and re-read, you will see foreshadowing all over the place, btw.

Standing by the dead-end of an alley, Cyril stared at Ray in disbelief. Ray grinned back at him, clearly satisfied with the outcome of the conversation he had just had with Lucifer as he put his phone back into his black pants pocket. 

“It was Barry?” He asked in disbelief. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it. The suspect, the one they pursued after he escaped out the window, had given them the slip, which Barry was more than capable of. But the way the man moved and fought hardly seemed like Barry, unless he was trying to mislead them. It was far too sloppy. Had he intentionally played down his abilities at the gala so that he could confront Archer elsewhere? Why was Barry after the prime minister anyway? And which prime minister was he after? That part was still unclear. 

“Apparently. He attacked them in an empty office building, but with our new friend’s help, they managed to neutralize him.” Ray replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Lucifer neutralized Barry?” Cyril balked. He suddenly remembered their ‘civilian’ team member insisting that he was immortal over and over again. He remembered how Krieger was salivating over the prospect of a new and interesting ‘subject’. He remembered Cheryl insisting he was a cyborg. And he remembered how the man had a non-existent past. A shiver ran down his spine as he found himself drawing the only logical conclusion he could. Aliens. That had to be it.

“Wow, it’s just like the old gypsy woman said!” Pam exalted.

Ray grinned at her. That gypsy woman really knew her stuff. “Yep, I guess he’s all that _and_ a bag of chips.” He smiled dreamily, remembering their date at the farmer’s market.

“You mean all that and a can of whoop-ass?” Pam agreed, licking her lips and crossing her arms.

Ray smirked at her and started back toward the building they had recently vacated in their attempt to chase down the culprit. “Yep. So he set up the bomb, I guess, which is now with the bomb squad. I set up the decoy, which was bomb number two, as per Mrs. Archer’s orders.” The others fell into step with him.

Cyril snapped out of his reveries as he pieced the information together. “But what about the third bomb?” He reminded.

“Yeah, that was set up by Lucifer’s people. I guess they decided to help. It’s a decoy too.” Ray explained with a chuckle. “You know, this mess could have been avoided if people were just more willing to communicate openly. Communication is key to every relationship.” Cyril wanted to remind him that _he_ was the one who had been wearing a mask earlier, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

Pam shook her head. “Wait, Lucifer has his own people?” She was back to thinking he was a secret agent again. Maybe it was best if Krieger just let this one go, she thought.

“Huh.” Cyril murmured. At least this time, they successfully completed their mission. All potential targets were safe now, and the criminal was apprehended. He should just be glad for small miracles and leave well enough alone, he decided. Yep. Job well done. Even if it was because they had help from a delusional man who had been experimented on by aliens. Yep, all’s well that ends well, right? Right?

Right?

***

The day after the debacle at the gala, Mallory Archer stared down at the strange contraption that had been installed in the chandelier and the three ‘bombs’ she had acquired from the bomb squad with more than a little finagling. They had assured her that not a one of them seemed to be holding standard explosives, which raised more than a few questions. She already knew that the one she had placed there was not meant to blow anything up, and she assumed the decoy Mr. Morningstar’s assistants had set up was likely just an empty dud. But what about the first bomb? She had hoped that she would get a chance to question Barry about this herself, but somehow, and not even a little surprisingly, he had vanished. The footage she had investigated on that matter showed a woman in black leather breaking in and hauling him off with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Something seriously did not add up, though, and though she couldn’t believe she was entertaining this idea, she was pretty sure the cyborg was actually innocent for once. Well… sort of innocent.

Lucifer had stuck around after, mostly to flirt with Lana and Archer… and if she wasn’t mistaking, Ray too… she realized. He had not given Mallory a second glance, aside from offering to pay for all the consumed alcohol from his first day on the job, and she had to reluctantly admit that maybe he was just not interested in her, though, for the life of her, she couldn’t even begin to fathom why. Cheryl had been in a dreamy daze since she was collected in the ballroom the day before. She only snapped out of it from time to time to croon about her superiority over the mere human, mortal pawn-scum she had to deal with. She was no longer pestering the civilian consultant for sex and strangulation. Instead, she referred to him as her King, and fawned over him like he was a rare treasure, which, for some reason, he seemed to be tolerating. Begrudgingly. Cyril was acting dodgy around him. Pam was… well she was the same as always. Unbothered by everything. Krieger was switching between sulking and cowering, sending longing, yet weary – almost frightened? - glances at Lucifer, while also avoiding him outright. He also no longer referred to him as ‘the subject,’ which Mrs. Archer found to be very telling. She just couldn’t figure out what it was telling about…

Mallory sighed heavily as her scientist entered the room, equipment in hand. He looked at Mallory quizzically. “Are you sure you want me to open it?” He asked.

“How else are we going to find out what’s in it?” She demanded curtly.

“I… uh… well that is to say, I think I already know the answer to that.” He faltered, running his hand nervously through his hair.

Mallory looked at him suspiciously. “And how could you possibly know that?” She inquired in a deceptively calm voice.

“I… may have… already had a look inside..?” He offered tentatively, shrugging.

“Or you were the one who built it in the first place.” Mallory commented, rolling her eyes.

“Also yes.” He admitted.

The head of ISIS found her brain working in over-dive, years of being a spy helping her to piece things together with ease. Her calculating eyes bored into him. “Tell me, was there ever any real threat? Or did you just make that anonymous call for the fun of it?” She was nearly snarling, already debating on how best to punish him now.

Krieger took an instinctive step back, eyes darting about before he took a shaky breath resignedly and slumped in defeat. “I made it up.” Mallory’s entire posture shifted from angry to menacing in a blink of an eye, and panicking, Krieger made haste to justify himself. “But it was for a very good cause… or so I thought at the time.” He cringed away from her.

“Oh?” She said in a sing song voice. “And, what, pray tell, was your cause?”

“Mr. Morningstar, of course.” He blurted out. Mallory glared at him, waiting for further elaboration. Krieger took a moment to compose his thoughts before he plowed ahead. “I heard about a man who thought of himself as the Devil and displayed abilities of hypnosis and persuasion, as well as other possible traits of interest, and I wanted to figure out what made him tick. I was thinking of maybe using the knowledge I gained to create enhanced super spies. Maybe more. The possibilities would have been limitless… but that was before… I… ah… realized it was a… lost cause.” He was stumbling between stuttering and babbling quickly now, seeing Mrs. Archer’s face twist from disbelief, to shock, to realization, and finally back to rage. He cringed.

“You made this whole thing up, costing us time and money, all in an attempt to lure _MY_ Lucifer Morningstar into a trap so you could treat him like a guinea pig???” She screamed, bringing her fist into his face. The scientist fell back, the tell-tale sign of a broken nose already evident on his bloodied face.

“Ouch.” Maze said from within Krieger’s van. She took another bite of popcorn, offered out to her by Ella, who was watching with as much interest as her. It had been child’s play for the two to break in, upon Lucifer’s request. He had thought that Hitler - maybe he really was just a look alike named Krieger? – was up to something. How right he was. Maze was surprised - not surprised - to find the psycho had set up hidden cameras all over the ISIS headquarters, allowing visuals on every nook and cranny, including those in the restrooms – which had no toilettes… for some reason. It gave them the opportunity to not only sniff around the suspicious van, but spy on the rest of them as well.

“Man, and people at the LAPD think Lucifer is crazy?” Ella remarked, taking a sip of soda. “This is tote’s cray-cray.” As she spoke, her eyes fell on the array of remotes in the Van. 

Maze gave her a mischievous grin as her eyes wandered down to the remotes as well. “Hey. Girl.” She said, nudging Ella and indicating the controls. “Do you wanna?” She asked playfully.

For a moment, Ella’s eyes grew wide. “Shouldn’t we notify the authorities of all… this?” she gestured around, trying to encompass everything that had just transpired. 

“Nah, that Mallory bitch reminds me too much of Lucifer’s Mom. She would find a way to get out of it and avoid punishment altogether.” Maze took a slurping gulp of soda and looked expectantly at Ella.

The forensic scientist weighed her options for a minute than shrugged, starting to grin back at Maze. “Yeah, I guess I’m already in this deep. And explaining B and E might be a bit hard to do. Best to just keep the officials out of it for once.” With that, she reached out to the remote that operated Krieger’s ‘bomb.’ “And besides, I kinda’ sorta’ want to know what’s actually in there.”

Maze placed her hand on top of Ella’s and together, they pressed down.

“Hey, Luci,” Archer began as he set down a full house on the table. “Would masturbating while smoking weed be considered master-blazing, weed whacking, or high jacking?” Various players groaned from around him, as much because of the hand he played as by the comment.

In the break room, the Agents of ISIS and their visiting Devil were seated around the lunch table, a plate of Scrotchi (curtesy of Pam, of course) set in the middle, completely untouched (of course), and a game of cards in full swing. A joint was being passed around and everyone - except for Lana, who had had a few things to say about it being unprofessional - was partaking, in celebration of a successful mission.

Lucifer grinned at him, setting down a royal flush. More groaning followed. “That is a marvelous question. Perhaps we should put it to a vote.” He purred in reply.

“Why don’t we just try it and see what feels right?” Pam suggested. Setting her cards down, her hands drifted below the table.

“Phrasing!” Archer crowed happily. Pam started to wiggle around.

Suspiciously, Lana glanced under the table, a look of annoyance flooding her features. “What the Shit, Pam! Pull your skirt down!”

“How ’m I ‘spose to try it with my skirt in the way?” Pam demanded challengingly.

Lucifer smirked, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, my.” Curiously, he glanced under the table as well and his smirk grew into a veritable Cheshire cat grin. “Not shy at all, are we.” He nodded approvingly at her. “The world is your oyster, my dear, do what makes you happy, I say.” 

Cyril glanced at the flush Lucifer had laid out, and sighed, dropping his cards with resignation, then glancing at Pam, he blushed and let his hand disappear under the table as well. “I’m out.” He announced. 

Lana eyed Cyril uncertainly. “You mean, out of the game, or…” no… he wouldn’t. Reluctantly, she glanced under the table, and her face turned red. “Really? Cyril!” She smacked him, causing him to whimper then smile happily at her. Disgusted, she scooted away, wishing she were anywhere else at that moment. “Seriously?” she balked at him.

“Speaking of Oysters, wanna play with mine?” Pam offered to Lucifer, a thirsty look in her eyes.

“That’s not an oyster, Pam, that’s a giant clam.” Archer cut in before Lucifer could reply.

Suddenly, they were interrupted from their… game by the cacophonous sound of disco music and explosions coming from Mrs. Archer’s office. They all looked at one another, trying to decide if any of them cared enough to deal with it… except for Archer. The ‘Greatest Secret Agent in the World’ jumped from his chair, yelling something about how he had to save his mother and he dashed out of the room, gun already in hand. 

Lucifer looked at Lana and sighed. “I supposed we can’t let him charge headlong into danger without back up.” He absentmindedly ran his hand over his perfectly styled hair, and stood up almost reluctantly.

Lana laughed. Oh, how she related to him in that moment, standing as well, the two started toward the potential danger. “But we’re in agreement that we don’t really give a rat’s ass about Mrs. Archer?” She proposed as she drew her gun and advanced.

Lucifer scoffed in response, but both found themselves falter when they saw Archer standing by the doorway to his mother’s office. He stood still except for the trembling of his shoulders. As they drew closer, it became apparent that he was laughing. Leaning over his shoulder, the agent and the fallen archangel peaked in. Nothing could have prepared them for the sight in front of them.

The room was filled with blaring music – disco inferno – flashing laser lights, and erupting fireworks. Krieger and Mallory had taken cover behind her desk, both staring in bewilderment at what was happening. Giggling, Lucifer slowly slid the door closed and leaned back against it. Soon, all three of them were guffawing as they leaned against the door, holding it closed.

“Why is it going off now?” Mallory yelled over the blaring noise. The ‘bomb’ was apparently a very large speaker, and the contraption that was timed to go off with it was spewing lasers and gun powder fueled sparks of color, and now, what appeared to be dry ice mist. “And why is it doing… THAT???”

Krieger was curled up next to her, hands on his ears. “It was supposed to be a diversion!” He hollered over the madness. “And I don’t know WHY it’s going off now! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, shut it off!” She commanded indignantly.

“Why? It’ll be over in a minute anyway!” Krieger snapped, clearly not interested in getting closer to the device, which was still releasing sprinkles of fireworks into the room.

The two huddled for what felt like a lot longer than a minute, when finally everything settled down. Cautiously, they rose to glare at the offending device, when suddenly, the second bomb opened up and started to spew gas into the room.

“Oh, no.” Mallory whispered, knowing all too well what the room was quickly being filled with.

“Wait,” Krieger gasped, bringing his hand over his mouth. “I thought this was yours, isn’t it a dud?”

Mallory glared at him, not wanting to explain anything to him. She didn’t want to admit that her plan had ben to fill the ballroom with sleeping gas so that she could whisk her consultant away to the safety of her room and finally… finally get a bit of alone time with him… after he woke up, of course. She wasn’t a monster. But she didn’t have to say anything, as understanding started to creep into Krieger’s suddenly sleepy eyes. The two made their way toward the exit, only to find it barred closed.

“Open this door, you wretched ingrates!” Mallory huffed out weakly, forcing herself to stay awake, even as she felt herself sliding down the door.

No, she thought angrily. She had to shut it off. Krieger, apparently had the same idea. He was already at the device, trying to work it open with his heavily fumbling hands, as Mallory pushed up next to him. She was about to make a snide remark about him being in the way when the sleepiness started to take hold. Well… what was the harm in taking a little nap? She already knew the gas wasn’t lethal, so why fight it? Glancing with half lidded eyes at Krieger, she noticed he was already succumbing to it, slumped over the desk and breathing steadily, and deeply. Defeat. The gas had won. She allowed herself to accept the oblivion of rest and felt herself slump down next to him.

“See?” Maze said, looking triumphantly at Ella, who was gawking at the scene on the little monitor. “Just like Lucifer’s Mom.”

“She was going to roofie the ballroom? Why?” Ella blanched.

“Does it matter? She got exactly what she deserves, if you ask me.” 

For a moment, neither of them said or did anything as they watched the two slumbering in the office, with Archer, Lana, and Lucifer in hysterics on the other side of the door. Then, as one, they reached for the third remote.

“We do this together.” Ella said excitedly. Maze grinned.

“Oh, yeah.” 

They triggered the final device and sat back to enjoy the show. 

All at once, pink and gold glitter, as well as Sulphur gas exploded from the smaller device. The mechanism twirled around four times at high velocity before it settled, leaving the two meddlers completely coated in sparkles and stench. Adding further insult to injury, the entire office was coated as well. Both women burst into laughter, high fiving in triumph.

“Good luck getting that out!” Ella crowed.

“Yeah, we should probably get out of here, though.” Maze cackled. 

They allowed themselves a few more minutes of mirth before they did just that. Revenge, it seemed, was a dish best served covered in glitter.

Everyone working in the ISIS headquarters had decided to give themselves the rest of the day off after their boss unexpectedly passed out. It had been Lucifer’s suggestion. Now, with the building empty, save the two mischief makers who were slumbering in the office, Lucifer could finally complete his _other_ mission.

Smiling, he held up the pineapple he had so carefully selected with Ray at the farmer’s market. Lovingly, he stroked the fruit, as he let himself into the room. The smell of Sulphur hit him immediately. It reminded him of Hell, where the smell of brimstone was ever present. How very appropriate, he thought as he approached the sleeping form of Hitler. Honestly, he was surprised the man had survived outside of Hell for so long. It had taken no time at all for Dad to finish off Able, so why was he dragging his feet with this one? A voice in the back of his head suggested that maybe this wasn’t Hitler, but Lucifer brushed the thought aside. 

Perhaps his almighty bastard of a father was giving Lucifer a chance to set things right himself? That would be just like him. But, of course, he wasn’t going to do any such thing. No. Dragging Adolf back to Hell was not happening… but he could deal out this _one_ bit of overdue punishment… just this one, if only to remind the foolish man who, exactly, he was dealing with. All this time, the dullard had been making attempts at Lucifer, for reasons he could not fathom. 

Quirking a grin, he approached the unconscious form of his target, tossing the pineapple between his hands playfully. A wicked smirk played across the Devil’s features widening almost unnaturally. He didn’t miss Hell, not in the least… but he had to admit, there were some aspects of the job he had found satisfying. This… punishing the worst of the worst in such creative ways… this he _almost_ missed. One pop-culture reference coming right up.

***

Krieger felt the sun beat down upon his back, warming it pleasantly, and coarse hot sand on his cheek grinding into his face _un_pleasantly. His head was still foggy, but as he started to come to, he remembered Mrs. Archer’s ‘bomb’ going off and releasing sleeping gas into the room. Curse that woman, and her meddling! Oh, yes, and his nose hurt tremendously, from when she had punched him. He also felt a suspicious sting on his hand. As he breathed in, he caught a whiff of sulfur coming from his lab coat. That was unexpected… come to think of it, all of this was unexpected. A gentle breeze brushed across his back and tousled his hair. The sound of birds twittering and an ocean surf ebbing and flowing caught his attention. What the Devil? He shivered as the realization sank in. What the (literal) Devil indeed – most likely whatever this was, it was his doing. 

Opening his eyes, he was initially blinded by the bright sun upon the nearly white sand, but as his eyes focused, he realized he was on a beach. A tropical beach on what appeared to be an unpopulated island. His clothes were utterly covered in gold and pink glitter, almost as if a glitter bomb had gone off next to him. Looking through his pockets, he found that all of his belongings had been taken. He had no phone, no microchips, no gun… or gum either, for that matter… nothing! That thieving Devil took everything! With a sinking feeling, he realized he had no way of contacting anyone. Great. Now what? He was a veritable _castaway._

Survive. 

He had to survive until the others found him, which meant finding fresh water, food, and shelter. As he took stock of his surroundings, his eyes fell on a pineapple, which had been artfully propped up next to him. It was _the_ pineapple. The pineapple that the subject – no – Lucifer Morningstar had been so obsessed with. But now it had a red handprint on it and a smiling devil emoji carved into the pigment. Looking at his hand, he saw a cut and indents from where it had been pressed against the offending fruit. That explained the pain. A neatly folded paper sat against its base. Krieger picked it up with trepidation and opened it to see the elegant scrawling of the devilish night club owner in the middle of the page. Understanding and disbelief came to him as he read the note, then read it again. How? Why? What? Shaking his head, he read it one more time, then he looked at the pineapple with the mischievously smirking devil face forlornly. The four little words on the page heavy with significance.

“His name is Wilson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahahaha! Y'all were expecting a Little Nicky maneuver, and I went all Castaway on you. Hope you enjoyed our story. Please comment.

**Author's Note:**

> I stepped outside of my comfort zone to write this, collaborating with my husband to do so. He helps with the jokes and innuendos, feeding me material and I do the writing and plot. 
> 
> Comments, and feedback would be great. You are awesome for reading this.


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